I have lived eighty years of life and know nothing for it, but to be resigned and tell myself that flies are born to be eaten by spiders and man to be devoured by sorrow.
VoltaireAbout author
- Author's profession: Writer
- Nationality: french
- Born: November 21, 1694
- Died: May 30, 1778
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Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head; We poor lads, 'tis our turn now. To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme. Your friends to death before their time. Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad.
A. E. Housman