Recollection Is The Only Paradise From Which

Like A Morning Dream, Life Becomes More And More Bright The Longer We Live, And The Reason Of Everything Appears More Clear. What Has Puzzled Us Before Seems Less Mysterious, And The Crooked Paths Look Straighter As We Approach The End.

Nothing Is More Beautiful Than Cheerfulness In An Old Face.

There Is A Joy In Sorrow Which None But A Mourner Can Know.

It Is Not Great, But Little Good-haps That Make Up Happiness.

Gray Hairs Seem To My Fancy Like The Soft Light Of The Moon, Silvering Over The Evening Of Life.