I love words; they are the quoits, the bows, the staves that furnish the gymnasium of the mind.
Rome - the city of visible history, where the past of a whole hemisphere seems moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar.
There's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots.
It's never too late to be who you were meant to be.
The beauty of a lovely woman is like music.
Destiny stands by sarcastic with our dramatis personae folded in her hand.