Men think highly of those who rise rapidly in the world; whereas nothing rises quicker than dust, straw, and feathers.
The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.
If ancient tales say true, nor wrong these holy men.
Champagne with its foaming whirls/As white as Cleopatra's pearls.
If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad.