Men, Some To Business, Some To Pleasure

What Woeful Stuff This Madrigal Would Be, In Some Starved Hackney Sonneteer, Or Me! But Let A Lord Once Own The Happy Lines, How The Wit Brightens! How The Style Refines!

Worth Makes The Man, And Want Of It The Fellow; The Rest Is All But Leather And Prunello.

Like Bubbles On The Sea Of Matter Borne, They Rise, They Break, And To That Sea Return.

Never Was It Given To Mortal Man - To Lie So Boldly As We Women Can.

Only Music Has The Ability To Take You To The Edge Of Reality And Allow You To Peek In For A Moment.