Despair Is The Only Genuine Atheism.

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

In Later Life, As In Earlier, Only A Few Persons Influence The Formation Of Our Character; The Multitude Pass Us By Like A Distant Army. One Friend, One Teacher, One Beloved, One Club, One Dining Table, One Work Table Are The Means By Which One's Nation And The Spirit Of One's Nation Affect The Individual.

It Is Easy To Flatter; It Is Harder To Praise.

Ah! The Seasons Of Love Roll Not Backward But Onward, Downward Forever.

Joy Descends Gently Upon Us Like The Evening Dew, And Does Not Patter Down Like A Hailstorm.