At Seventy-seven It Is Time To Be

Sorrow Is A Kind Of Rust Of The Soul, Which Every New Idea Contributes In Its Passage To Scour Away. It Is The Putrefaction Of Stagnant Life, And Is Remedied By Exercise And Motion.

There Is No Wisdom In Useless And Hopeless Sorrow.

I Love The Acquaintance Of Young People; Because, In The First Place, I Do Not Like To Think Myself Growing Old. In The Next Place, Young Acquaintances Must Last Longest, If They Do Last; And Then, Sir, Young Men Have More Virtue Than Old Men; They Have More Generous Sentiments In Every Respect.

Reflect That Life, Like Every Other Blessing, Derives Its Value From Its Use Alone.

All Envy Would Be Extinguished, If It Were Universally Known That There Are None To Be Envied.