What makes old age so sad is, not that our joys, but that our hopes then cease.
It is easy to flatter; it is harder to praise.
Repetition is the mother of education.
Every friend is to the other a sun, and a sunflower also. He attracts and follows.
Like a morning dream, life becomes more and more bright the longer we live, and the reason of everything appears more clear. What has puzzled us before seems less mysterious, and the crooked paths look straighter as we approach the end.
Remembrances last longer than present realities.