Not till the fire is dying in the grate, Look we for any kinship with the stars. Oh, wisdom never comes when it is gold, And the great price we paid for it full worth: We have it only when we are half earth. Little avails that coinage to the old!

See ye not, Courtesy is the true Alchemy, turning to gold all it touches and tries?

We never know what's in us till we stand by ourselves.

We are betrayed by what is false within

There is nothing the body suffers which the soul may not profit by.

Memoirs are the backstairs of history.

Observation is the most enduring of the pleasures of life.