Our erected wit maketh us to know what perfection is.

Our erected wit maketh us to know what perfection is.

We all suffer from the preoccupation that there exists... in the loved one, perfection.

Poesy must not be drawn by the ears: it must be gently led, or rather, it must lead, which was partly the cause that made the ancient learned affirm it was a divine, and no human skill, since all other knowledges lie ready for any that have strength of wit; a poet no industry can make, if his own genius be not carried into it.

We executed our game plan almost to perfection. It was a nice win for us. But most importantly, we played with intensity for a full game. In recent contests, we've had patches where we lost focus and the opposition took advantage of it. Tonight, we didn't have any lapses in intensity.

He made us feel we were present at a feast of wit, fed by his good sense, and thrilled to be, for that brief time, in on the jest.