absence ... smothers into decay a rootless fancy but often nourishes the least seed of a true affection into full-flowering love.

O blest one hour like this! to rise And see grief's shadows backward roll; While bursts on unaccustomed eyes The glad Aurora of the soul.

Every man for himself, and the Devil take the hindmost.

To-morrow is ah, whose?

A true test of friendship, to sit or walk with a friend for an hour in perfect silence , without wearying of one another's company.

... it does not do to tell great people anything unpleasant.

O, the mulberry-tree is of trees the queen! Bare long after the rest are green; But as time steals onwards, while none perceives Slowly she clothes herself with leaves.