Maxioms by John Dryden
And all to leave what with his toil he won,
To that unfeather'd two-legged thing, a son.
And all to leave what with his toil he won,
To that unfeather'd two-legged thing, a son.
Whatever is, is in its causes just.
Whatever is, is in its causes just.
There is a pleasure, sure,
In being mad, which none but madmen know!
There is a pleasure, sure,
In being mad, which none but madmen know!
According to her cloth she cut her coat.
According to her cloth she cut her coat.
Beware the fury of a patient man. -John Dryden.
Beware the fury of a patient man. -John Dryden.
