We Of The Craft Are All Crazy.

Out Of Chaos God Made A World, And Out Of High Passions Comes A People.

Pure Friendship's Well-feigned Blush.

I Shall Soon Be Six-and-twenty. Is There Anything In The Future That Can Possibly Console Us For Not Being Always Twenty-five?

What's Drinking? A Mere Pause From Thinking!

I Have Not Loved The World, Nor The World Me; I Have Not Flattered Its Rank Breath, Nor Bowed To Its Idolatries A Patient Knee, Nor Coined My Cheek To Smiles,-nor Cried Aloud In Worship Of An Echo.