Now What Is A Wedding?

Oh, My Tattered Rags Are Caught On Your Coffee Table.

Like A Girl, A Baby Running After Her Mother, Begging To Be Picked Up, And She Tugs On Her Skirts, Holding Her Back As She Tries To Hurry Off—all Tears, Fawning Up At Her, Till She Takes Her In Her Arms… That’s How You Look, Patroclus, Streaming Live Tears.

What So Tedious As A Twice-told Tale?

Each Man Delights In The Work That Suits Him Best.

For When Two Join In The Same Adventure, One Perceives Before The Other How They Ought To Act; While One Alone, However Prompt, Resolves More Tardily And With A Weaker Will.