Allur'd, not forc'd, encourag'd, not compell'd; The shrinking eye look'd up, the soul was cheer'd, Felt as it learnt, confided e'er it fear'd; And first by emulation's ardour mov'd, Prest onward in the path which soon it lov'd.

[F]orget the confession; I heard about what you did to those Diegos. All I need to know is, can I trust you? Time was, I could with my life— His eyes darkened.

The President was sorry to hear that the Ambassador was leaving.

It has been said that only a hierarchical society with a leisure class at the top can produce works of art.