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Take away leisure and Cupid's bow is broken
Ovid
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Ovid
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Publius Ovidius Naso
P. Ovidius Naso
Away
Take
Cupid
Bows
Leisure
Broken
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The love of fame usually spurs on the mind. [Lat., Ingenio stimulos subdere fama solet.]
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Even pleasure cloys without variety.
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Pleasure is sweetest when 'tis paid for by another's pain.
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A red rose peeping through a white? Or else a cherry (double graced) Within a lily? Centre placed? Or ever marked the pretty beam, A strawberry shows, half drowned in cream? Or seen rich rubies blushing through A pure smooth pearl, and orient too? So like to this, nay all the rest, Is each neat niplet of her breast.
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Every lover is a soldier.
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That pleasure which can be safely indulged in is the least inviting.
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What is it that love does to a woman? Without she only sleeps with it alone, she lives.
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The sharp thorn often produces delicate roses.
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Envy assails the noblest: the winds howl around the highest peaks.
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Grief brims itself and flows away in tears.
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We must improve our time time goes with rapid foot.
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