Only the wasteful virtues earn the sun.

Poet and sculptor, do the work, / Nor let the modish painter shirk

The falcon cannot hear the falconer

Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet; She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet. She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree; But I, being young and foolish, with her did not agree. In a field by the river my love and I did stand, And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand. She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs; But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.

It's certain that fine women eat A crazy salad with their meat.

Only that which does not teach, which does not cry out, which does not condescend, which does not explain, is irresistible.

Life is a journey up a spiral staircase; as we grow older we cover the ground covered we have covered before, only higher up; as we look down the winding stair below us we measure our progress by the number of places where we were but no longer are. The journey is both repetitious and progressive; we go both round and upward.