And the small ripple spilt upon the beach Scarcely o'erpass'd the cream of your champagne, When o'er the brim the sparkling bumpers reach, That spring-dew of the spirit! the heart's rain! Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach Who please,—the more because they preach in vain,— Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, Sermons and soda-water the day after.

Man marks the earth with ruin - his control stops with the shore.

Sweet is revenge-especially to women.

The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.

I have always believed that all things depended upon Fortune, and nothing upon ourselves.

I am acquainted with no immaterial sensuality so delightful as good acting.

I deny nothing, but doubt everything.