Life may be treacherous, but you can always depend on death.

Oh Lion in a peculiar guise, Sharp Roman road to Paradise, Come eat me up, I'll pay thy toll With all my flesh, and keep my soul.

I may be smelly and I may be old, Rough in my pebbles, reedy in my pools, But where my fish float by I bless their swimming, And I like the people to bathe in me especially women.

Youth is an arithmetical statement of passing interest, each hour eats it up.

This is the simplest of all thoughts, that Death must come when we call, although he is a god.

Why does my muse only speak when she is uhnhappy? She does not, I only listen when I am unhappy.

one never knows really how things are with other people, they just do always seem more spirited than oneself somehow.