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Hermit hoar, in solemn cell,
Wearing out life's evening gray;
Smite thy bosom, sage, and tell,
What is bliss, and which the way?
Thus I spoke; and speaking sigh'ed;
Scarce repressed a starting tear;
When the smiling sage reply'd
Come, my lad, and drink some beer.
  Source: Samuel Johnson

The man that isn't jolly after drinking,
Is just a drivelling idiot to my thinking.
  Source: Euripides, 480-406 B.C.

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