Though This Be Madness, Yet There Is

He Hath Not Eat Paper, As It Were; He Hath Not Drunk Ink; His Intellect Is Not Replenished; He Is Only An Animal, Only Sensible In The Duller Parts. (shakespeare, Love's Labor's Lost, Iv)

Out, Out, Brief Candle! Life's But A Walking Shadow.

The Very Firstlings Of My Heart Shall Be The Firstlings Of My Hand.

Heaven Would That She These Gifts Should Have, And I To Live And Die Her Slave.

Adversity's Sweet Milk, Philosophy.