One cannot make oneself, but one can sometimes help a little in the making of somebody else. It is well.

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.

Those whose own light is quenched are often the light-bringers.

Autumn to winter, winter into spring, Spring into summer, summer into fall,-- So rolls the changing year, and so we change; Motion so swift, we know not that we move.

We never discover the value of things till we have lost them.

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

An author departs; he does not die.