There is only one writer in whom I find something that reminds me of the directness of style which is found in the Bible. It is Shakespeare.

The butterfly long loved the beautiful rose, And flirted around all day; While round him in turn with her golden caress, Soft fluttered the sun's warm ray.... I know not with whom the rose was in love, But I know that I loved them all. The butterfly, rose, and the sun's bright ray, The star and the bird's sweet call.

Man,--the aristocrat amongst the animals.

God will pardon: That's His business.

Whatever tears one may shed, in the end one always blows one's nose.

He only profits from praise who values criticism.

This was but a prelude; where books are burnt human-beings will be burnt in the end