Take away leisure and Cupid's bow is broken
Art lies in concealing art.
It is ill to marry in the month of May.
Sleep, rest of nature, O sleep, most gentle of the divinities, peace of the soul, thou at whose presence care disappears, who soothest hearts wearied with daily employments, and makest them strong again for labour!
What one beholds of a woman is the least part of her.
We have ploughed the vast ocean in a fragile bark.