Body and soul, like peevish man and wife, United jar, and yet are loth to part.
A God all mercy is a God unjust.
Whose yesterdays look backwards with a smile.
In an active life is sown the seed of wisdom... And age, if it has not esteem, has nothing.
Age should fly concourse, cover in retreat defects of judgment, and the will subdue; walk thoughtful on the silent, solemn shore of that vast ocean it must sail so soon.
And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?