It Is Not Great, But Little Good-haps

Joys Are Our Wings, Sorrows Our Spurs.

As A Man Grows Older It Is Harder And Harder To Frighten Him.

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.

Music Is Moonlight In The Gloomy Night Of Life.