The World Is Not Thy Friend, Nor

I Pray Thee Cease Thy Counsel, Which Falls Into Mine Ears As Profitless As Water In A Sieve.

I'll Break My Staff, Bury It Certain Fathoms In The Earth, And Deeper Than Did Ever Plummet Sound, I'll Drown My Book!

Nothing Can Come Of Nothing.

Tell Me Where Is Fancy Bred, Or In The Heart, Or In The Head?

Here Was A Caesar! When Comes Such Another?