World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee/ Life would not yield to age.
William ShakespeareThis is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions; these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion.
William Shakespeare