Puns are the droppings of soaring wits.
In love, such a word, whispered, is a mysterious kiss of the soul to the soul.
The little people must be sacred to the big ones, and it is from the rights of the weak that the duty of the strong is comprised.
He sought...to transform the grief which looks down into the grave by showing it the grief which looks up to the stars.
For prying into any human affairs, non are equal to those whom it does not concern.
Table talk and Lovers' talk equally elude the grasp; Lovers' talk is clouds, table talk is smoke.