There is nothing more tedious than a constant round of gaiety.
It is the gift of all poets to find the commonplace astonishing, and the astonishing quite natural.
But truth, that dangerous commodity, has a way of sticking.
Youth is always a little offended to find itself not preferred: it cannot help feeling that when it admits the old to its society, it confers a benefit.
There is nothing so intractable as a calendar.