Dream in light years, challenge miles, walk step by step
So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.
Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him; some that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congealed ice.
Let the sap of reason quench the fire of passion.
He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.
I am misanthropos, and hate mankind, For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, That I might love thee something.