I hate a froward and dismal spirit, that slips over all the pleasures of life and seizes and feeds upon misfortunes; like flies, that cannot stick to a smooth and polished body, but fix and repose themselves upon craggy and rough places, and like cupping-glasses, that only suck and attract bad blood.
Σημείο: CHAPTER V. · ¶3964 Άδεια: Public domain · Πηγή Το κείμενο δίνεται όπως στην έκδοση, χωρίς αλλαγές.