Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife! To all the sensual world proclaim. One crowded hour of glorious life is worth an age without a name.

One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honor or observation.

Right now, it's too crowded.

she said. ''I don't want to sound embarrassing, but he looks sensual.

If you once turn on your side after the hour at which you ought to rise, it is all over

At least one hour will be music. The rest will be impertinent remarks,