The Well Of True Wit Is Truth

The Season Of Love Is The Carnival Of Egoism And It Brings A Touchstone To Our Natures.

Poetry Is Talking On Tiptoe.

A Woman Who Is Not Quite A Fool Will Forgive Your Being But A Man, If You Are Surely That. . .

O Have A Care Of Natures That Are Mute!

I've Studied Men From My Topsy-turvy Close, And I Reckon, Rather True. Some Are Fine Fellows: Some, Right Scurvy; Most, A Dash Between The Two.