That is a pathetic inquiry among travelers and geographers after the site of ancient Troy. It is not near where they think it is.When a thing is decayed and gone, how indistinct must be the place it occupied!

Still we live meanly like ants, though the fable tells us we were long ago changed into men.

I turned my face more exclusively than ever to the woods, where I was better known.

What old people say you cannot do, you try and find that you can. Old deeds for old people, and new deeds for new.

It is equally impossible to forget our Friends, and to make them answer to our ideal. When they say farewell, then indeed we beginto keep them company. How often we find ourselves turning our backs on our actual Friends, that we may go and meet their ideal cousins.

My Friend is that one whom I can associate with my choicest thought.

Night is certainly more novel and less profane than day.