Two turtle doves will show thee Where my cold ashes lie And sadly murmuring tell thee How in tears I did die

Countless as the sands of sea are human passions, and not all of them are alike, and all of them, base and noble alike, are at first obedient to man and only later on become his terrible masters.

Perfect nonsense goes on in the world. Sometimes there is no plausibility at all

The more debris there is the more it will show the governor's activity.

We have the marvelous gift of making everything insignificant.

Ah, steeds, steeds, what steeds! Has the whirlwind a home in your manes? Is there a sensitive ear, alert as a flame, in your every fiber? Hearing the familiar song from above, all in one accord you strain your bronze chests and, hooves barely touching the ground, turn into straight lines cleaving the air, and all inspired by God it rushes on!

Don't blame the mirror if your face is faulty.