Repetition is the mother of education.
Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time.
For the Infinite has sowed his name in the heavens in burning stars, but on the earth He has sowed his name in tender flowers.
Remembrances last longer than present realities.
Recollection is the only paradise from which we cannot be turned out.
Gray hairs seem to my fancy like the soft light of the moon, silvering over the evening of life.