Two Ill Meales Make The Third A

He Lives Unsafely, That Lookes Too Neere On Things.

You Must Lose A Fly To Catch A Trout.

Prettiness Dies First.

'it's This Accursed Science,' I Cried. 'it's The Very Devil. The Mediaeval Priests And Persecutors Were Right, And The Moderns Are All Wrong. You Tamper With It-and It Offers You Gifts. And Directly You Take Them It Knocks You To Pieces In Some Unexpected Way.'

Man Is All Symmetry, Full Of Proportions, One Limb To Another.