There is no greater fame for a man than that which he wins with his footwork or the skill of his hands.
Nor can one word be chang'd but for a worse.
Sleep, delicious and profound, the very counterfeit of death
Ah, beer, my one weakness. My Achille's heel, if you will.
Long exercised in woes.
Why have you come to me here, dear heart, with all these instructions? I promise you I will do everything just as you ask. But come closer. Let us give in to grief, however briefly, in each other's arms.