Cervantes smiled Spain's chivalry away; A single laugh demolish'd the right arm Of his own country.
Poetry should only occupy the idle.
You should have a softer pillow than my heart.
Lord of himself; that heritage of woe!
Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, sermons and soda water the day after.
There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more.