Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, and burnt the topless towers of Ileum?
Our swords shall play the orators for us.
Goodness is beauty in the best estate.
Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is Apollo's laurel bough, That sometime grew within this learned man. Faustus is gone.
O, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
Live and die in Aristotle's works.