The windy satisfaction of the tongue.
You know those balls that they put on car antennas so you can find them in the parking lot? Those should be on every car!
Few sons are like their fathers - many are worse, few better.
...like that star of the waning summer who beyond all stars rises bathed in the ocean stream to glitter in brilliance.
The natural thing, my lord, men and women joined.
The rest were vulgar deaths unknown to fame.