“What refuge is there for the victim who is oppressed with the feeling that there are a thousand new books he ought to read, while life is only long enough for him to attempt to read a hundred?”

“The morning cup of coffee has an exhilaration about it which the cheering influence of the afternoon or evening cup of tea cannot be expected to reproduce.”

“For nothing burns with such amazing speed, As the dry sticks of a religious creed.”

“The mind of a bigot to the pupil of the eye; the more light you pour on it, the more it contracts.”

“Memory is a net: one that finds it full of fish when he takes it from the brook, but a dozen miles of water have run through it without sticking.”

“I am declinedInto the vale of years.”

“What should we speak of When we are old as you? when we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December? how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away?”

“My way of lifeIs fall'n into the sear and yellow leaf.”