See ye not, Courtesy is the true Alchemy, turning to gold all it touches and tries?
The man who has no mind of his own lends it to the priests.
Not till the fire is dying in the grate, Look we for any kinship with the stars. Oh, wisdom never comes when it is gold, And the great price we paid for it full worth: We have it only when we are half earth. Little avails that coinage to the old!
She poured a little social sewage into his ears.
Possession without obligation to the object possessed approaches felicity.
She whom I love is hard to catch and conquer, Hard, but O the glory of the winning were she won!