How confusing the beams from memory's lamp are; One day a bachelor, the next a grampa. What is the secret of the trick? How did I get so old so quick?
Miranda in Miranda's sight is old, gray and dirty; Twenty-nine she was last night; This morning she is thirty.
Here lies my past, Goodbye I have kissed it; Thank you kids, I wouldn't have missed it.
Here's a good rule of thumb; too clever is dumb.
Where there is a monster, there is a miracle.
The bed is a bundle of paradoxes: we go to it with reluctance, yet we quit it with regret; we make up our minds every night to leave it early, but we make up our bodies every morning to keep it late.