Your absence of mind we have borne, till your presence of body came to be called in question by it.

I give thee all,-I can no more, Though poor the off'ring be; My heart and lute are all the store That I can bring to thee.

Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea.

Some people have a knack of putting upon you gifts of no real value, to engage you to substantial gratitude. We thank them for nothing.

We were happier when we were poorer, but we were also younger.

We do not go to the theatre like our ancestors, to escape from the pressure of reality, so much as to confirm our experience of it.

Cards are war, in disguise of a sport.