All habits gather by unseen degrees.
Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.
Ye moon and stars, bear witness to the truth.
The good we have enjoyed from Heaven's free will, and shall we murmur to endure the ill?
What, start at this! when sixty years have spread. Their grey experience o'er thy hoary head? Is this the all observing age could gain? Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?
They say everything in the world is good for something.