Woman's reason is in the milk of her breasts.
Possession without obligation to the object possessed approaches felicity.
What a dusty answer gets the soul When hot for certainties in this our life!
The man of science is nothing if not a poet gone wrong.
On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose, Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend . . . He reached a middle height, and at the stars, Which are the brain of heaven, he looked, and sank. Around the ancient track marched, rank on rank, The army of unalterable law.
Around the ancient track marched, rank on rank, The army of unalterable law.
Comedy is a game played to throw reflections upon social life, and it deals with human nature in the drawing-room of civilized men and women, where we have no dust of the struggling outer world, no mire, no violent crashes, to make the correctness of the representation convincing.
She [Comedy] it is who proposes the correcting of pretentiousness, of inflation, of dulness, and of the vestiges of rawness and grossness to be found among us. She is the ultimate civilizer, the polisher, a sweet cook.
Prepare, You lovers, to know Love a thing of moods: Not like hard life, of laws.
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