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.
Lugar: CHAPTER V. · ¶3964 Licença: Public domain · Fonte O texto é dado como na edição, sem alterações.