Cast away care, he that loves sorrow lengthens not a day, nor can buy tomorrow; Money is trash, and he that will spend it, Let him drink merrily, fortune will send it.
The calmest husbands make the stormiest wives.
Do but consider what an excellent thing sleep is...that golden chain that ties health and our bodies together. Who complains of want? of wounds? of cares? of great men's oppressions? of captivity? whilst he sleepeth? Beggars in their beds take as much pleasure kings: can we therefore surfeit on this delicate Ambrosia? Can we drink too much of that whereof to taste too little tumbles us into a churchyard, and to use it but indifferently throws us into Bedlam? No, no, look upon Endymion, the moon's minion, who slept three score and fifteen years, and was not a hair the worse for it.
I am full of thoughts, a thousand wheels toss my incertain fears, there is a storm in my hot boiling brains, which rises without wind. A horrid one.
There are plenty of things that are wrong. Marxists used to use the term false consciousness, which is very out of fashion these days. If we were to ask people how ads work, most people would say, They work by tricking people but they don't trick me.