We have not an hour of life in which our pleasures relish not some pain, our sours, some sweetness.

0 summer friendship, whose flat-tering leaves shadowed us in our prosperity, With the least gust, drop off in the autumn of adversity.

Tis the only discipline we are born for; all studies else are but as circular lines, and death the center where they all must meet.

My dancing days are past.

He that knows no guilt can know no fear.

As the index tells us the contents of stories and directs to the particular chapter, even so does the outward habit and superficial order of garments (in man or woman) give us a taste of the spirit, and demonstratively point (as it were a manual note from the margin) all the internal quality of the soul; and there cannot be a more evident, palpable, gross manifestation of poor, degenerate, dunghilly blood and breeding than a rude, unpolished, disordered, and slovenly outside.

Ill news are swallow-winged, but what is good walks on crutches.