There's Place And Means For Every Man

This Cold Night Will Turn Us All To Fools And Madmen.

Love Is Merely A Madness, And, I Tell You, Deserves As Well A Dark House And A Whip As Madmen Do.

Good Hay, Sweet Hay, Hath No Fellow.

But Earthlier Happy Is The Rose Distill'd Than That Which Withering On The Virgin Thorn Grows, Lives, And Dies In Single Blessedness.

O, What Men Dare Do! What Men May Do! What Men Daily Do, Not Knowing What They Do.