Thou Art All The Comfort, The Gods

She Marking Them Begins A Wailing Note And Sings Extemporally A Woeful Ditty How Love Makes Young Men Thrall And Old Men Dote How Love Is Wise In Folly, Foolish-witty Her Heavy Anthem Still Concludes In Woe, And Still The Choir Of Echoes Answer So.

There's Not A Note Of Mine That's Worth The Noting.

There Is A Law In Each Well-ordered Nation To Curb Those Raging Appetites That Are Most Disobedient And Refractory.

All That Glitters Is Not Gold.

Condemn The Fault And Not The Actor Of It?