There Are No Grotesques In

To Be Content With Death May Be Better Than To Desire It.

We Term Sleep A Death, And Yet It Is Waking That Kills Us, And Destroys Those Spirits That Are The House Of Life.

I Am In No Way Facetious, Nor Disposed For The Mirth And Galliardize Of Company, Yet In One Dream I Can Compose A Whole Comedy, Behold The Action, Apprehend The Jests, And Laugh Myself Awake At The Conceits Thereof.

I Love To Lose Myself In A Mystery To Pursue My Reason To An O Altitudo.

Be Thou What Thou Singly Art And Personate Only Thyself. Swim Smoothly In The Stream Of Thy Nature And Live But One Man.