The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pa >>
Give me books, fruit, French wine and fine weather and a little music >>
I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick t >>
I slip from workaholic to bum real easy. >>
Sloth is the key to poverty. >>
Too many young people itch for what they want without scratching for i >>
My passions are all asleep from my having slumbered till nearly eleven and weakened the animal fiber all over me to a delightful sensation about three degrees on this sight of faintness -- if I had teeth of pearl and the breath of lilies I should call it languor -- but as I am I must call it laziness. In this state of effeminacy the fibers of the brain are relaxed in common with the rest of the body, and to such a happy degree that pleasure has no show of enticement and pain no unbearable frown. Neither poetry, nor ambition, nor love have any alertness of countenance as they pass by me.