A dream itself is but a shadow.
Hereditary sloth instructs me.
The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes.
Love reasons without reason.
Wolves and bears, they say, casting their savagery aside, have done like offices of pity.
The weariest and most loathed worldly life, that age, ache, penury and imprisonment can lay on nature is a paradise, to what we fear of death.