A bad reader soon puts to flight both wise men and fools.
Drive Nature out with a pitchfork, yet she hurries back, And will burst through your foolish contempt, triumphant.
Even play has ended in fierce strife and anger.
Who has courage to say no again and again to desires, to despise the objects of ambition, who is a whole in himself, smoothed and rounded.
No poem was ever written by a drinker of water.
God has joined the innocent with the guilty.