For There Is A Music

Men Have Lost Their Reason In Nothing So Much As Their Religion, Wherein Stones And Clouts Make Martyrs.

A Man Is Never Alone, Not Only Because He Is With Himself And His Own Thoughts, But Because He Is With The Devil, Who Ever Consorts With Our Solitude.

And Surely, He That Hath Taken The True Altitude Of Things, And Rightly Calculated The Degenerate State Of This Age, Is Not Like To Envy Those That Shall Live In The Next, Much Less Three Or Four Hundred Years Hence, When No Man Can Comfortably Imagine What Face This World Will Carry.

Yes, Even Amongst Wiser Militants, How Many Wounds Have Been Given, And Credits Slain, For The Poor Victory Of An Opinion, Or Beggarly Conquest Of A Distinction.

Yet Is Every Man His Greatest Enemy, And, As It Were, His Own Executioner.