“ A kind of losing loadum is their game,Where the worst writer has the greatest fame. ”
For Hell and the foul fiend that rulesGod's everlasting fiery jails(Devised by rogues, dreaded by fools),With his grim, grisly dog that keeps the door,Are senseless stories, idle tales,Dreams, whimseys, and no more.
~ John Wilmot
God bless our good and gracious King,Whose promise none relies on;Who never said a foolish thing,Nor ever did a wise one.
Before I got married I had six theories about raising children; now, I have six children and no theories.
Now piercèd is her virgin zone;She feels the foe within it.She hears a broken amorous groan,The panting lover's fainting moan,Just in the happy minute.
