His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
Oh, my tattered rags are caught on your coffee table.
The natural thing, my lord, men and women joined.
Suffering is but another name for the teaching of experience, which is the parent of instruction and the schoolmaster of life.
Earth sounds my wisdom, and high heaven my fame.
This is the way I've always thought it should be. We've always blamed ourselves, but I guess we know what cylinder wasn't firing!
A boy without mischief is like a bowling ball without a liquid center.
I want to be alone with my thought.
And here I am using my own lungs like a sucker.
Remember that postcard Grandpa sent us from Florida of that Alligator biting that woman's bottom? That's right, we all thought it was hilarious. But, it turns out we were wrong. That alligator was sexually harassing that woman.
Boy, everyone is stupid except me.
Good things don't end in -eum; they end in -mania or -teria.
I was working on a flat tax proposal and accidentally proved there was no God.
I'm a white male, age 18 to 49. Everyone listens to me, no matter how dumb my suggestions are.
Don't mess with the dead, boy, they have eerie powers.
You never know when an old calendar might come in handy! Sure, it's not 1985 right now, but who knows what tomorrow will bring?
I discovered a meal between breakfast and brunch.
I've finally tapped into that spirit of self-destruction that makes rock-n-roll the king of music!
The other day, I was so desperate for a beer, I snuck into the football stadium and ate the dirt under the bleachers.
I'm satisfied. It's straight,...but it's just so hot, and I'm just so fraustrated.
To labour is the lot of man below; And when Jove gave us life, he gave us woe.
Close to the Gates a spacious Garden lies, From the Storms defended and inclement Skies; Four Acres was the allotted Space of Ground, Fenc'd with a green Enclosure all around. Tall thriving Trees confessed the fruitful Mold: The reddening Apple ripens here to Gold, Here the blue Fig with luscious Juice overflows, With deeper Red the full Pomegranate glows, The Branch here bends beneath the weighty Pear, And verdant Olives flourish round the Year.
Achilles absent was Achilles still!
The generation of mankind is like the generation of leaves. The wind scatters the leaves on the ground, but the living tree burgeons with leaves again in the spring.
On these sands and in the clefts of the rocks, in the depths of the sea, in the creaking of the pines, you'll spy secret footprints and catch far-off voices from the homecoming celebration. This land still longs for Odysseus.
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