The farce is finished. I go to seek a vast perhaps.
A child is not a vase to be filled, but a fire to be lit.
One inch of joy surmounts of grief a span, Because to laugh is proper to the man.
I'd gladly do without a valet. I'm never so well treated as when I'm without a valet.
Pantagruelism is a certain gaitey of the spirit consisting in a disdain for the hazards of fortune.
Oh thrice and four times happy... those who plant cabbages.