Flout 'em, and scout 'em; and scout 'em, and flout 'em; / Thought is free.
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
To be in anger is impiety, but who is man that is not angry?
The violence of either grief or joy, their own enactures with themselves destroy.
Who is it that can tell me who I am?
Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops." Hope tinged with melancholy - like life.