Coquetry is the champagne of love.
My books kept me from the ring, the dog-pit, the tavern, and the saloon.
Well for the drones of the social hive that there are bees of an industrious turn, willing, for an infinitesimal share of the honey, to undertake the labor of its fabrication.
O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.
He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way, Tormenting himself with his prickles.
For my part, getting up seems not so easy By half as lying.