Time flies, and what is past is done.

Wine rejoices the heart of man and joy is the mother of all virtues.

A stated truth loses its grace, but a repeated error appears insipid and ridiculous.

Nature knows no pause in progress and development, and attaches her curse on all inaction.

Humor is one of the elements of genius--admirable as an adjunct; but as soon as it becomes dominant, only a surrogate for genius.

How often do I lull my seething blood to rest, for you have never seen anything so unsteady, so uncertain, as this heart.

The soul-stirring image of death is no bugbear to the sage, and is looked on without despair by the pious. It teaches the former to live, and it strengthens the hopes of the latter in salvation in the midst of distress. Death is new life to both.