My name is Death: the last best friend am I.

Thou hast been called, O sleep, the friend of woe, But 'tis the happy that have called thee so.

The loss of a friend is like that of a limb; time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired.

How beautiful is night! A dewy freshness fills the silent air; No mist obscures; nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, Breaks the serene of heaven: In full-orbed glory, yonder moon divine Rolls through the dark blue depths; Beneath her steady ray The desert circle spreads Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky. How beautiful is night!

Live as long as you may, the first twenty years are the longest half of your life.

As sure as God is good, so surely there is no such thing as necessary evil.

In fall-orbed glory, yonder moon divine, Rolls through the dark blue depths.