Things May Serve Long, But Not Serve

Since Brass, Nor Stone, Nor Earth, Nor Boundless Sea, But Bad Mortality O'ersways Their Power, How With This Rage Shall Beauty Hold A Plea, Whose Action Is No Stronger Than A Flower?

Preposterous Ass, That Never Read So Far To Know The Cause Why Music Was Ordain'd! Was It Not To Refresh The Mind Of Man, After His Studies Or His Usual Pain?

This Goodly Frame, The Earth, Seems To Me A Sterile Promontory.

Pain Pays The Income Of Each Precious Thing.

I Can No Longer Live By Thinking.