She, though in full-blown flower of glorious beauty, Grows cold even in the summer of her age.
Uncertain whose the narrowest span,--the clown unread, or half-read gentleman.
Heaven be thanked, we live in such an age, When no man dies for love, but on the stage.
Genius must be born, and never can be taught.
Many things impossible to thought have been by need to full perfection brought.
Time glides with undiscover'd haste; The future but a length behind the past.