For A Sick Man The

This Coffee Falls Into Your Stomach, And Straightway There Is A General Commotion. Ideas Begin To Move Like The Battalions Of The Grand Army Of The Battlefield, And The Battle Takes Place. Things Remembered Arrive At Full Gallop, Ensuing To The Wind. The Light Cavalry Of Comparisons Deliver A Magnificent Deploying Charge, The Artillery Of Logic Hurry Up With Their Train And Ammunition, The Shafts Of With Start Up Like Sharpshooters. Similes Arise, The Paper Is Covered With Ink; For The Struggle Commences And Is Concluded With Torrents Of Black Water, Just As A Battle With Powder.

Happiness Lends Poetic Charms To Woman, And Dress Adorns Her Like A Delicate Tinge Of Rouge.

The More You Judge, The Less You Love.

It Would Be Curious To Know What Leads A Man To Become A Stationer Rather Than A Baker, When He Is No Longer Compelled, As Among The Egyptians, To Succeed To His Father's Craft.

For Passion, Be It Observed, Brings Insight With It; It Can Give A Sort Of Intelligence To Simpletons, Fools, And Idiots, Especially During Youth.