Nothing With God Can Be Accidental.

Nothing That Is Can Pause Or Stay; / The Moon Will Wax, The Moon Will Wane, / The Mist And Cloud Will Turn To Rain, / The Rain To Mist And Cloud Again, / Tomorrow Be Today.

Chill Air And Wintry Winds! My Ear Has Grown Familiar With Your Song; I Hear It In The Opening Year, I Listen, And It Cheers Me Long.

Great Is The Art Of Beginning, But Greater Is The Art Of Ending.

Whatever Poet, Orator, Or Sage May Say Of It, Old Age Is Still Old Age.

To Be Seventy Years Old Is Like Climbing The Alps. You Reach A Snow-crowned Summit, And See Behind You The Deep Valley Stretching Miles And Miles Away, And Before You Other Summits Higher And Whiter, Which You May Have Strength To Climb, Or May Not. Then You Sit Down And Meditate And Wonder Which It Will Be.