Rome in the ages, dimmed with all her towers, / Floats in the mist, a little cloud at tether.

A child is beset with long traditions. And his infancy is so old, so old, that the mere adding of years in the life to follow will not seem to throw it further back -- it is already so far.

Spring and autumn are inconsiderable events in a landscape compared with the shadows of a cloud.

Happiness is not a matter of events; it depends upon the tides of the mind.

Let us turn to our own childhoods-no further-if we will renew our sense of remoteness, and of the mystery of change.

Assuredly it would be a pity if laughter should ever become, like rhetoric and the arts, a habit.

We talk of sunshine and moonshine, but not of cloud-shine, which is yet one of the illuminations of our skies. A shining cloud is one of the most majestic of all secondary lights.