Ah! The seasons of love roll not backward but onward, downward forever.

Each departed friend is a magnet that attracts us to the next world.

Humankind's chief fault is that they have so many small ones.

What a father says to his children is not heard by the world, but it will be heard by posterity.

Gray hairs seem to my fancy like the soft light of the moon, silvering over the evening of life.

The words that a father speaks to his children in the privacy of home are not heard by the world, but, as in whispering galleries, they are clearly heard at the end, and by posterity.

Whenever, at a party, I have been in the mood to study fools, I have always looked for a great beauty: they always gather round her like flies around a fruit stall.