We waste our best years in distilling the sweetest flowers of life into potions which, after all, do not immortalize, but only intoxicate.
No literature is complete until the language it was written in is dead.
Look not mournfully into the past. It comes not back again.
Ambition is so powerful a passion in the human breast, that however high we reach we are never satisfied.
I shot an arrow into the air, it fell to earth, I knew not where.
The shadows of the mind are like those of the body. In the morning of life they all lie behind us; at noon we trample them under foot; and in the evening they stretch long, broad, and deepening before us.