Angels May Be Very Excellent Sort Of

When A Man Or Woman Loves To Brood Over A Sorrow And Takes Care To Keep It Green In Their Memory, You May Be Sure It Is No Longer A Pain To Them.

Opportunities Flit By While We Sit Regretting The Chances We Have Lost, And The Happiness That Comes To Us We Heed Not, Because Of The Happiness That Is Gone.

It Seems To Me So Shocking To See The Precious Hours Of A Man's Life - The Priceless Moments That Will Never Come Back To Him Again - Being Wasted In A Mere Brutish Sleep.

The Proverbial Englishman, We Know From Old Chronicler Froissart, Takes His Pleasures Sadly, And The Englishwoman Goes A Step Further And Takes Her Pleasures In Sadness Itself.

It Is Very Strange, This Domination Of Our Intellect By Our Digestive Organs. We Cannot Work, We Cannot Think, Unless Our Stomach Wills So. It Dictates To Us Our Emotions, Our Passions.... We Are But The Veriest, Sorriest Slaves Of Our Stomach. Reach Not After Morality And Righteousness, My Friends; Watch Vigilantly Your Stomach, And Diet It With Care And Judgment. Then Virtue And Contentment Will Come And Reign Within Your Heart, Unsought By Any Effort Of Your Own; And You Will Be A Good Citizen, A Loving Husband, And A Tender Father—a Noble, Pious Man.