The one thing finished in this hasty world.

And what they dare to dream of, date to do.

Most religion-mongers have bated their paradises with a bit of toasted cheese. They have tempted the body with large promises of possessions in their transmortal El Dorado. Sancho Panza will not quit his chimney-corner, but under promise of imaginary islands to govern.

The soil out of which such men as he are made is good to be born on, good to live on, good to die for and to be buried in.

Mishaps are like knives, that either serve us or cut us, as we grasp them by the blade or the handle.

The dandelions and buttercups gild all the lawn: the drowsy bee stumbles among the clover tops, and summer sweetens all to me.

Though old the thought and oft exprest, Tis his at last who says it best.