Don't cross the bridge til you come to it.
So Nature deals with us, and takes away Our playthings one by one, and by the hand Leads us to rest.
O beautiful, awful summer day, what hast thou given, what taken away?
Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined; Often in a wooden house a golden room we find.
Age is opportunity no less than youth itself.
The course of my long life hath reached at last in fragile bark over a tempestuous sea the common harbor, where must rendered be account for all the actions of the past.