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.
Endroit: CHAPTER V. · ¶3964 Licence: Public domain · Source Le texte est donné tel que dans l'édition, sans retouche.