A Man's As Old As He's Feeling.

Falsehood Is Fire In Stubble; It Likewise Turns All The Light Stuff Around It Into Its Own Substance For A Moment, One Crackling Blazing Moment, And Then Dies; And All Its Converts Are Scattered In The Wind, Without Place Or Evidence Of Their Existence, As Viewless As The Wind Which Scatters Them.

To Know, To Esteem, To Love,-and Then To Part, Makes Up Life's Tale To Many A Feeling Heart.

The More Sparingly We Make Use Of Nonsense, The Better.

Memory, Bosom-spring Of Joy.

Language Is The Armory Of The Human Mind, And At Once Contains The Trophies Of Its Past And The Weapons Of Its Future Conquests.