What seems to us but dim funeral tapers may be heaven's distant lamps.

Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time.

Time has a doomsday book, upon whose pages he is continually recording illustrious names. But as often as a new name is written there, an old one disappears. Only a few stand in illuminated characters never to be effaced.

Time is the life of the soul.

When one is truly in love, one not only says it, but shows it.

Joy, temperance, and repose, slam the door on the doctor's nose.

Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle seashore of the mind.