The good things of life are not to be had singly, but come to us with a mixture; like a school-boy's holiday, with a task affixed to the tail of it.

No one ever regarded the first of January with indifference.

The beggar wears all colors fearing none.

The laws of Pluto's kingdom know small difference between king and cobbler, manager and call-boy; and, if haply your dates of life were conterminant, you are quietly taking your passage, cheek by cheek (O ignoble levelling of Death) with the shade of some recently departed candle-snuffer.

By myself walking, To myself talking.

New Year's Day is every man's birthday.

For God's sake (I never was more serious) don't make me ridiculous any more by terming me gentle-hearted in print.