Is that vodka?' Margarita asked weakly. The cat jumped up from its chair in indignation. 'Excuse me, your majesty,' he squeaked, 'do you think I would give vodka to a lady? That is pure spirit! - Mihail Bulhakov
Miserable mortals who, like leaves, at one moment flame with life, eating the produce of the land, and at another moment weakly perish. - Homer