He hath freedom whoso beareth a clean and constant heart within.
How can life be worth living, if devoid Of the calm trust reposed by friend in friend? What sweeter joy than in the kindred soul, Whose converse differs not from self-communion?
The victor is not victorious if the vanquished does not consider himself so
I never indulge in rhyme or stanza Unless I'm in bed with the influenza.
The ape, vilest of beasts, how like to us.
He who has two languages has two souls.