The words of genius have a wider meaning than the thought that prompted them.
Death is the king of this world: 'Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet.
One can say everything best over a meal.
Enveloped in a common mist, we seem to walk in clearness ourselves, and behold only the mist that enshrouds others.
Hear Everything and judge for yourself
There's folks as make bad butter and trusten to the salt t' hide it.