Whenever nature leaves a hole in a person's mind, she generally plasters it over with a thick coat of self-conceit.

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

It has done me good to be somewhat parched by the heat and drenched by the rain of life.

Stay, stay at home, my heart and rest; Home-keeping hearts are the happiest, For those that wander they know not where Are full of trouble and full of care; To stay at home is best.

I have you fast in my fortress, And will not let you depart, But put you down into the dungeon, In the round-tower of my heart, And there will I keep you forever, Yes, forever and a day, Till the walls shall crumble to ruin, And moulder in the dust away!

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.

Whatever poet, orator, or sage may say of it, old age is still old age.