New occasions teach new duties.

And the poorest twig on the elm-tree was ridged inch deep with pearl.

Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how.

Time is, after all, the greatest of poets; and the sons of Memory stand a better chance of being the heirs of Fame.

Not only around our infancy Doth heaven with all its splendors lie; Daily, with souls that cringe and plot, We Sinais climb and know it not.

There is only one thing better than tradition and that is the original and eternal life out of which all tradition takes its rise.

All birds during the pairing season become more or less sentimental, and murmur soft nothings in a tone very unlike the grinding-organ repetition and loudness of their habitual song. The crow is very comical as a lover; and to hear him trying to soften his croak to the proper Saint-Preux standard has something the effect of a Mississippi boatman quoting Tennyson.