Give me wine to wash me clean of the weather-stains of cares

Bring me wine, but wine which never grew In the belly of the grape, Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through Under the Andes to the Cape, Suffered no savor of the earth to escape.

If I know your sect, I anticipate your argument

What we seek we shall find; what we flee from flees from us.

Nature arms each man with some faculty which enables him to do easily some feat impossible to any other

Proverbs are the sanctuary of the intuitions.