And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.

come he slow or come he fast it is but death that comes at last

There is a vulgar incredulity, which in historical matters, as well as in those of religion, finds it easier to doubt than to examine.

The way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seemed to have know a better day.

He turn'd his charger as he spake, Upon the river shore, He gave his bridle reins a shake, Said, "Adieu for evermore, my love, And adieu for evermore."

If you once turn on your side after the hour at which you ought to rise, it is all over. Bolt up at once.

Cats are a very mysterious kind of folk. There is always more passing in their minds than we are aware of.