The arctic loneliness of age.

Alas, how can we help but mourn When hero bosoms yield their breath! A century itself may bear But once the flower of such a death.

He alone has lost the art to live who cannot win new friends.

There are those who suffer and grow strong; there are those who suffer and grow weak. This mystery of pain is still for me the saddest of earth's disabilities.

Death's but one more to-morrow.

Medicine is only palliative. For behind disease lies the cause and this cause NO DRUG can reach.

The arctic loneliness of age.