We were happier when we were poorer, but we were also younger.
Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime!
We are nothing; less than nothing, and dreams. We are only what might have been.
Satire does not look pretty upon a tombstone.
Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea.
Credulity is the man's weakness, but the child's strength.