Welcome, Thou Kind Deceiver! Thou Best Of

Bold Knaves Thrive Without One Grain Of Sense, But Good Men Starve For Want Of Impudence.

Men Met Each Other With Erected Look, The Steps Were Higher That They Took; Friends To Congratulate Their Friends Made Haste, And Long Inveterate Foes Saluted As They Pass'd.

Whistling To Keep Myself From Being Afraid.

Time Glides With Undiscover'd Haste; The Future But A Length Behind The Past.

The Perverseness Of My Fate Is Such That He's Not Mine Because He's Mine Too Much.