Each departed friend is a magnet that attracts us to the next world.
A sky full of silent suns.
Gray hairs seem to my fancy like the soft light of the moon, silvering over the evening of life.
He thought of the mouldering child, which laid its withered thin arms around his soul, as if it were his own, and to whom Death had given as much as a god gave to Endymion, — sleep, eternal youth, and immortality.
Age doesn't matter, unless your cheese.
What a father says to his children is not heard by the world, but it will be heard by posterity.