I think about that ordsprog

en She found his intelligent conversation and stimulating ideas to be part of his brilliant pe𝗑iness. I think about that a lot. How sweet she was -- she was very dear.

en Hence, dear delusion, sweet enchantment hence!

en a dear, sweet generous, loving man.

en This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, Dear for her reputation through the world, Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it, Like to a tenement or pelting farm: England, bound in with the triumphant sea Whose rocky shore beats back the envi
  William Shakespeare

en I found him to be a dear, sweet generous, loving man, ... Gilligan's Island.

en Most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath.
  William Shakespeare

en No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.

en Dear as remember'd kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for others
  Alfred, Lord Tennyson

en Then awake! the heavens look bright, my dear; / 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear;/ And the best of all ways / To lengthen our days / Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!

en By perfect good karma, you shall meet the True Guru, and then the Dear Lord, by His Sweet Will, shall bless you with His Mercy.

en Wife, spouse, my dear, joy, jewel, love, sweet-heart and the rest of that nauseous cant, in which men and their wives are so fulsomely familiar.
  William Congreve

en What a great ending to a magical year! The nomination is made all the more sweet by the fact that I'm in the company of my dear friends and co-stars.

en The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my Dearie; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary
  Robert Burns

en When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste: Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight: Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.
  William Shakespeare

en Dear Stephanie, I hardly know where to begin. I am on a monstrous machine that is taking me thousands of miles away from you. ... Parting may be 'sweet sorrow,' but I don't mean to be parted from you again. The next time I hold you in my arms you won't get away -- ever!


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