You Learn Nothing About Someone By The

Follow A Shadow, It Still Flies You, Seem To Fly, It Will Pursue: So Court A Mistress, She Denies You; Let Her Alone, She Will Court You. Say Are Not Women Truly, Then, Styled But The Shadows Of Us Men?

True Gladness Doth Not Always Speak; Joy, Bred And Born But In The Tongue, Is Weak.

The Soul Of Man Is Infinite In What It Covets.

I Would Rather Have A Plain Down-right Wisdom Than A Foolish And Affected Eloquence.

Wine It Is The Milk Of Venus, And The Poet's Horse Accounted: Ply It And You All Are Mounted.