No poems can please long or live that are written by water drinkers.
A crafty knave needs no broker.
Happy is the man to whom nature has given a sufficiency with even a sparing hand.
The whole race of scribblers flies from the town and yearns for country life.
Painters and poets alike have always had license to dare anything! We know that, and we both claim and allow to others in their turn this indulgence.
In neglected fields the fern grows, which must be cleared out by fire.