We love to chew the cud of a foregone vision; to collect the scattered rays of a brighter phantasm, or act over again, with firmer nerves, the sadder nocturnal tragedies.
The red-letter days, now become, to all intents and purposes, dead-letter days.
How sickness enlarges the dimension of a manโs self to himself!
We were happier when we were poorer, but we were also younger.
Of all sound of all bells... most solemn and touching is the peal which rings out the Old Year.
A Persian's heaven is eas'ly made: 'T is but black eyes and lemonade.