Who Ever Is Out Of Patience Is

Painting Today Is Pure Intuition And Luck And Taking Advantage Of What Happens When You Splash The Stuff Down.

Medicine Is A Science Which Hath Been (as We Have Said) More Professed Than Laboured, And Yet More Laboured Than Advanced: The Labour Having Been, In My Judgment, Rather In Circle Than In Progression. For I Find Much Iteration, But Small Addition. It Considereth Causes Of Diseases, With The Occasions Or Impulsions; The Diseases Themselves, With The Accidents; And The Cures, With The Preservation.

Children Sweeten Labours. But They Make Misfortune More Bitter. They Increase The Care Of Life. But They Mitigate The Remembrance Of Death. The Perpetuity Of Generation Is Common To Beasts. But Memory, Merit And Noble Works Are Proper To Men. And Surely A Man Shall See The Noblest Works And Foundations Have Proceeded From Childless Men Which Have Sought To Express The Images Of Their Minds Where Those Of Their Bodies Have Failed.

The Voice Of The People Has About It Something Divine: For How Otherwise Can So Many Heads Agree Together As One?

Wives Are Young Men's Mistresses, Companions For Middle Age, And Old Men's Nurses.