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.

Fortune is the rod of the weak, and the staff of the brave.

Time makes ancient good uncouth.

Christ was the first true democrat that ever breathed, as the old dramatist Dekkar said he was the first true gentleman.

Hush! Still as death, The tempest holds his breath As from a sudden will; The rain stops short, but from the eaves You see it drop, and hear it from the leaves, All is so bodingly still.

No man can produce great things who is not thoroughly sincere in dealing with himself.

All the beautiful sentiments in the world weigh less than a single lovely action.