The breath of an aristocrat is the death rattle of freedom.
How many women does one need to sing the scale of love all the way up and down?
People like us are unhappy in this world and in the next, I guess if we made it to heaven, we'd have to help make it thunder.
Dying people often become childish.
There are only Epicureans, either crude or refined; Christ was the most refined.
A good man with a good conscience doesn't walk so fast.