Not till the fire is dying in the grate, Look we for any kinship with the stars.

Memoirs are the backstairs of history.

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!

I expect Woman will be the last thing civilized by Man.

Among the Diaries beginning with the second quarter of our century, there is frequent mention of a lady then becoming famous for her beauty and her wit: "an unusual combination," in the deliberate syllables of one of the writers, who is, however, not disposed to personal irony when speaking of her.

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

A house with a great wine stored below lives in our imagination as a joyful house, fast and splendidly rooted in the soil.