It Is The Admirer Of Himself, And

I See The Cure Is Not Worth The Pain.

Antisthenes Says That In A Certain Faraway Land The Cold Is So Intense That Words Freeze As Soon As They Are Uttered, And After Some Time Then Thaw And Become Audible, So That Words Spoken In Winter Go Unheard Until The Next Summer.

The Man Who Is Completely Wise And Virtuous Has No Need Of Glory, Except So Far As It Disposes And Eases His Way To Action By The Greater Trust That It Procures Him.

All Men Whilst They Are Awake Are In One Common World: But Each Of Them, When He Is Asleep, Is In A World Of His Own.

Nor Is Drunkenness Censured For Anything So Much As Its Intemperate And Endless Talk.