The greatest grace of a gift, perhaps, is that it anticipates and admits of no return.

Take them, O Death! and bear away Whatever thou canst call thine own! Thine image, stamped upon this clay, Doth give thee that, but that alone!

Look not mournfully into the past, it comes not back again. Wisely improve the present, it is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly heart.

As turning the logs will make a dull fire burn, so change of studies a dull brain.

And so we plough along, as the fly said to the ox.

The soul never grows old.

I venerate old age; and I love not the man who can look without emotion upon the sunset of life, when the dusk of evening begins to gather over the watery eye, and the shadows of twilight grow broader and deeper upon the understanding.