Admit that there is some level that would make even you call yourself the victim of class war.

Beauty: The power by which a woman charms a lover and terrifies a husband.

Be not the first by whom the new are tried$$$ nor yet the last to lay the old aside.

All the world is made of faith$$$ and trust$$$ and pixie dust.

And this story$$$ having no beginning$$$ will have no end.

Too late came I to love you$$$ O Beauty both so ancient and so new! Too late came I to love you - and behold you were with me all the time . . .

The young habitually mistake lust for love$$$ they're infested with idealism of all kinds.

When you wish someone joy$$$ you wish them peace$$$ love$$$ prosperity$$$ happiness... all the good things.

The first thing that distinguishes a writer is that he is most alive when alone.

A giant thirst is a great joy when quenched in time.