Things Fit Only To Give Weight To

Oh, What A Void There Is In Things.

Each Man Has His Fancy.

The Belly (i.e. Necessity) Is The Teacher Of Art And The Liberal Bestower Of Wit.

But When To-morrow Comes, Yesterday's Morrow Will Have Been Already Spent: And Lo! A Fresh Morrow Will Be For Ever Making Away With Our Years, Each Just Beyond Our Grasp.

Is Any Man Free Except The One Who Can Pass His Life As He Pleases?