I Am Acquainted With No

The Sight Of Blood To Crowds Begets The Thirst Of More, As The First Wine-cup Leads To The Long Revel.

They Used To Say That Knowledge Is Power. I Used To Think So, But I Know Now They Mean Money.

Few Things Surpass Old Wine; And They May Preach Who Please, The More Because They Preach In Vain

I Stood In Venice, On The Bridge Of Sighs; A Palace And A Prison On Each Hand; I Saw From Out The Wave Of Her Structure's Rise As From The Stroke Of The Enchanter's Wand: A Thousand Years Their Cloudy Wings Expand Around Me, And A Dying Glory Smiles O'er The Far Times, When Many A Subject Land Look'd To The Winged Lion's Marble Pines, Where Venice Sate In State, Throned On Her Hundred Isles.

Exhausting Thought, And Hiving Wisdom With Each Studious Year.