For my part getting up seems not so easy By half as lying.

He who permits himself to tell a lie once, finds it much easier to do it the second time.

The foundation of morality to have done, once and for all, with lying.

Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, Unnatural and full of contradictions; Yet others of our most romantic schemes Are something more than fictions.

Gold! gold! gold! gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold!

And soon Their hushing dances languished to a stand, Like midnight leaves when, as the Zephyrs swoon, All on their drooping stems they sink unfanned.