The Well Of True Wit Is Truth

Comedy Is A Game Played To Throw Reflections Upon Social Life, And It Deals With Human Nature In The Drawing-room Of Civilized Men And Women, Where We Have No Dust Of The Struggling Outer World, No Mire, No Violent Crashes, To Make The Correctness Of The Representation Convincing.

A Human Act Once Set In Motion Flows On Forever To The Great Account. Our Deathlessness Is In What We Do, Not In What We Are.

Sunrays, Leaning On Our Southern Hills And Lighting Wild Cloud-mountains That Drag The Hills Along, Oft Ends The Day Of Your Shifting Brilliant Laughter Chill As A Dull Face Frowning On A Song. Ay, But Shows The South-west A Ripple-feathered Bosom Blown To Silver While The Clouds Are Shaken And Ascend Scaling The Mid-heavens As They Stream, There Comes A Sunset Rich, Deep Like Love In Beauty Without End.

Lowly, With A Broken Neck, The Crocus Lays Her Cheek To Mire.

Possession Without Obligation To The Object Possessed Approaches Felicity.