"See this scar! Since an infidel dog cleft my skull before Tunis, I can write no more verses; yet it hasn't grown quiet in my upper story on that account.

I lie now, instead of composing.

My boon companions enjoy the nonsensical trash, when I pour it forth at the tavern." "And the broken skull: is that a forget-me-not story too, or was it...." "Look here! It's the actual truth.

It was a bad blow, but there's a grain of good in everything evil.

For instance, we were in the African desert just dying of thirst, for that belongs to the desert as much as the dot does to the letter i.