The Waste Of Plenty Is The Resource

... Where The Greeks Had Modesty, We Have Cant; Where They Had Poetry, We Have Cant; Where They Had Patriotism, We Have Cant; Where They Had Anything That Exalts, Delights, Or Adorns Humanity, We Have Nothing But Cant, Cant, Cant.

How Troublesome Is Day! It Calls Us From Our Sleep Away; It Bids Us From Our Pleasant Dreams Awake, And Sends Us Forth To Keep Or Break Our Promises To Pay. How Troublesome Is Day!

Time, The Foe Of Man's Dominion, Wheels Around In Ceaseless Flight, Scattering From His Hoary Pinion Shades Of Everlasting Night.

Man Yields To Death; And Man's Sublimest Works Must Yield At Length To Time.

The Highest Wisdom And The Highest Genius Have Been Invariably Accompanied With Cheerfulness. We Have Sufficient Proofs On Record That Shakespeare And Socrates Were The Most Festive Companions.