Rains driven by storms fall not perpetually on the land already sodden, neither do varying gales for ever disturb the Caspian sea.
Painters and poets have equal license in regard to everything.
The mob may hiss me, but I congratulate myself while I contemplate my treasures in their hoard.
The impartial earth opens alike for the child of the pauper and the king.
To drink away sorrow.
The snow has at last melted, the fields regain their herbage, and the trees their leaves.