The words can not return.

Blend a little folly with thy worldly plans: it is delightful to give loose on a proper occasion.

There is need of brevity, that the thought may run on.

Whatever things injure your eye you are anxious to remove; but things which affect your mind you defer.

One wanders to the left, another to the right. Both are equally in error, but, are seduced by different delusions.

Smooth out with wine the worries of a wrinkled brow.

Our years Glide silently away. No tears, No loving orisons repair The wrinkled cheek, the whitening hair That drop forgotten to the tomb.