The perfection of wisdom, and the end of true philosophy is to proportion our wants to our possessions, our ambitions to our capacities, we will then be a happy and a virtuous people.
Not to want to say, not to know what you want to say, not to be able to say what you think you want to say, and never to stop saying, or hardly ever, that is the thing to keep in mind, even in the heat of composition.
Well it's Saturday night and I just gotta rip it up/
Sunday morning I just gotta give it up/
Come Monday momma and I just gotta run away/
You know it's such a drag to face another day