A good book is the precious lifeblood of a master spirit.
When a king sets himself to bandy against the highest court and residence of all regal powers, he then, in the single person of a man, fights against his own majesty and kingship.
Let none admire that riches grow in hell; that soil may best deserve the precious bane.
The brazen throat of war.
Only this I know, That one celestial father gives to all.
Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls his watery labyrinth, which whoso drinks forgets both joy and grief.