As I gaze upon the sea! All the old romantic legends, all my dreams, come back to me.

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

Three silences there are: the first of speech, the second of desire, the third of thought.

O little feet! that such long years Must wander on through hopes and fears, Must ache and bleed beneath your load; I, nearer to the wayside inn Where toil shall cease and rest begin, Am weary, thinking of your road!

How beautiful the silent hour, when morning and evening thus sit together, hand in hand, beneath the starless sky of midnight!

And in despair I bowed my head; "There is no peace on earth," I said; "For hate is strong, And mocks the song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!" Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: "God is not dead, nor doth he sleep! The Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail, With peace on earth, good-will to men!

A torn jacket is soon mended; but hard words bruise the heart of a child.