Age, I Do Abhor Thee, Youth, I

Like A Man Made After Supper Of A Cheese-paring: When A' Was Naked, He Was, For All The World, Like A Forked Radish, With A Head Fantastically Carved Upon It With A Knife.

Now, By The World, It Is A Lusty Wench; I Love Her Ten Times More Than E'er I Did: O, How I Long To Have Some Chat With Her!

Thou Art All The Comfort, The Gods Will Diet Me With.

Learning Is But An Adjunct To Ourself, And Where We Are Our Learning Likewise Is.

Friendship Is Full Of Dregs.