If You Are Foolish Enough

He Is Very Imprudent, A Dog; He Never Makes It His Business To Inquire Whether You Are In The Right Or The Wrong, Never Asks Whether You Are Rich Or Poor, Silly Or Wise, Sinner Or Saint. You Are His Pal. That Is Enough For Him.

It Is Very Strange, This Domination Of Our Intellect By Our Digestive Organs. We Cannot Work, We Cannot Think, Unless Our Stomach Wills So. It Dictates To Us Our Emotions, Our Passions.... We Are But The Veriest, Sorriest Slaves Of Our Stomach. Reach Not After Morality And Righteousness, My Friends; Watch Vigilantly Your Stomach, And Diet It With Care And Judgment. Then Virtue And Contentment Will Come And Reign Within Your Heart, Unsought By Any Effort Of Your Own; And You Will Be A Good Citizen, A Loving Husband, And A Tender Father—a Noble, Pious Man.

Truth And Fact Are Old-fashioned And Out-of-date, My Friends, Fit Only For The Dull And Vulgar To Live By. Appearance, Not Reality, Is What The Clever Dog Grasps At In These Clever Days. We Spurn The Dull-brown Solid Earth; We Build Our Lives And Homes In The Fair-seeming Rainbow-land Of Shadow And Chimera.

I Can See The Humorous Side Of Things And Enjoy The Fun When It Comes; But Look Where I Will, There Seems To Me Always More Sadness Than Joy In Life.

We Drink [to] One Another's Health And Spoil Our Own.