A sort of hostile transaction, very necessary to keep the world going, but by no means a sinecure to the parties concerned.
Lord ByronIt is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, a luster obliterates. There is little distinct left without an effort of memory, then indeed the lights are rekindled for a moment - but who can be sure that the Imagination is not the torch-bearer?
Lord ByronFor what were all these country patriots born? To hunt, and vote, and raise the price of corn?
Lord Byron