That's the unfortunate thing about death. It's so terribly final.
To know that one has never really tried - that is the only death
I never weep over lost money, for I figure I'd rather go to the poorhouse once than go there every day.
No vice is so bad as advice.
If ants are such busy workers, how come they find time to go to all the picnics?
I have no patience with women who measure and weigh their love like a country doctor dispensing capsules. If a man is worth loving at all, he is worth loving generously, even recklessly.