A Hair Divides What Is

Into This Universe, And Why Not Knowing Nor Whence, Like Water Willy-nilly Flowing; And Out Of It, As Wind Along The Wate, I Know Not Whither, Willy-nilly Blowing.

He Who Has One Enemy Shall Meet Him Everywhere.

Better Be Jocund With The Fruitful Grape Than Sadden After None, Or Bitter, Fruit.

Myself When Young Did Eagerly Frequent Doctor And Saint, And Heard Great Argument About It And About: But Evermore Came Out By The Same Door As In I Went.

I Wonder What The Vintners Buy One Half So Precious As The Stuff They Sell.