As A Man Grows Older It Is

Man's Feelings Are Always Purest And Most Glowing In The Hour Of Meeting And Of Farewell.

I Would Rather Dwell In The Dim Fog Of Superstition Than In Air Rarefied To Nothing By The Air-pump Of Unbelief-in Which The Panting Breast Expires, Vainly And Convulsively Gasping For Breath.

What Makes Old Age So Sad Is, Not That Our Joys, But That Our Hopes Then Cease.

The Darkness Of Death Is Like The Evening Twilight; It Makes All Objects Appear More Lovely To The Dying.

Nations And Men Are Only The Best When They Are The Gladdest, And Deserve Heaven When They Enjoy It.