We Think There Is Color, We Think

Coition Is A Slight Attack Of Apoplexy. For Man Gushes Forth From Man, And Is Separated By Being Torn Apart With A Kind Of Blow.

Immoderate Desire Is The Mark Of A Child, Not A Man.

The Offender, Who Repents, Is Not Yet Lost.

According To Convention There Is A Sweet And A Bitter, A Hot And A Cold, And According To Convention, There Is An Order. In Truth, There Are Atoms And A Void.

Fortune Provides A Man's Table With Luxuries, Virtue With Only A Frugal Meal.