Shame on the body for breaking down while the spirit perseveres.
Jealousy is the jaundice of the soul.
Old age creeps on us ere we think it nigh.
No government has ever been, or can ever be, wherein time-servers and blockheads will not be uppermost.
Only man clogs his happiness with care, destroying what is with thoughts of what may be.
She, though in full-blown flower of glorious beauty, Grows cold even in the summer of her age.