| Author |
Quotes |
| Michael Eyquen de Montaigne | Round, round, while thus we go round, The best thing a man can do, Is to make it at least, a merry-go-round, By--sending the wine round too. |
| Michael Eyquen de Montaigne | So closely our whims on our miseries tread, That the laugh is awak'd ere the tear can be dried. |
| Michael Eyquen de Montaigne | Some flowers of Eden ye yet inherit, But the trail of the serpent is over them all. |
| Michael Eyquen de Montaigne | The pain Remembrance gives, when the fix'd dart Is stirred thus in the wound again. |
| Michael Eyquen de Montaigne | Then fill the bowl--way with gloom! Our joys shall always last; For Hope shall brighten days to come, And Mem'ry gild the past. |
| Michael Eyquen de Montaigne | Then let me quaff the foamy tide, And through the dance meandering glide. |
| Michael Eyquen de Montaigne | Time flies, as he flies, adds increase to her truth, And gives to her mind what he steals from her youth. |
| Michael Eyquen de Montaigne | To-night, at least, to-night be gay, Whate'er to-morrow brings. |
| Michael Eyquen de Montaigne | While tears that from repentance flow, In bright exhalement reach the skies. |
| Michael Eyquen de Montaigne | Whose wit in the combat as gentle as bright Ne'er carried a heartstain away on its blade. |
| Michael Eyquen de Montaigne | Wouldst thou, or thou, Forego what's now, For all that hope may say? No--joy's reply, From every eye, Is, "Live we while we may." |
| Michael Eyquen de Montaigne | You may break, you may shatter the vase, as you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still. |
| Mme A M Bigot de Cornuel | No man is a hero to his valet. |
| Mme A M Bigot de Cornuel | God the first garden made, and the first city Cain. |
| Mme A M Bigot de Cornuel | Much will always wanting be To him who much desires. |
| Mme A M Bigot de Cornuel | Our yesterday's to-morrow now is gone, And still a new to-morrow does come on. We by to-morrow draw out all our store, Till the exhausted well can yield no more. |
| Mme A M Bigot de Cornuel | The getting out of doors is the greatest part of the journey. |
| Mme A M Bigot de Cornuel | Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell? |
| Motto | Jest not in earnest. |
| Motto | United we stand, divided we fall. |
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