They fought the enemy, we fight fat living and self-pity. Shine, o shine, unfalsifying sun, on this sick scene.
In a poem the words should be as pleasing to the ear as the meaning is to the mind.
I wonder what Adam and Eve think of it by this time.
Superior people never make long visits.
I believe verbal felicity is the fruit of ardor, of diligence, and of refusing to be false.
We don't like flowers that do not wilt; they must die, and nine she-camel hairs aid memory.