Author 190553

I cannot win the time trial of the world championships at my age,

This age thinks better of a gilded fool than of a threadbare saint in wisdom’s school.

Lengthens not a day, nor can buy tomorrow.

This principle is old, but true as fate, Kings may love treason, but the traitor hate.

O what a heaven is love! O what a hell!

This world, after all our science and sciences, is still a miracle; wonderful, inscrutable, magical and more, to whosoever will think of it.

One step to human bliss is sweet revenge.

'Tis not a soldier's glory to tell how many lives he has ended, but how many he has saved.

Purpose toward which I am working; to meet men and women with laughter on my

To awaken each morning with a smile brightening my face; to greet the day with reverence for the opportunities it contains; to approach my work with a clean mind; to hold ever before me, even in the doing of little things, the Ultimate Purpose toward which I am working; to meet men and women with laughter on my lips and love in my heart; to be gentle, kind, and courteous through all the hours; to approach the night with weariness that ever woos sleep and the joy that comes from work well done -- this is how I desire to waste wisely my days.

Sin is a raven croaking her own fall.

We are ne’er like angels till our passion dies.

A mask of gold hides all deformities.

Sleep is that golden chain that ties health and our bodies together.

Were there no women, men might live like gods.

Age is like love, it cannot be hid.

Surely man was not created to be an idle fellow; he was not set in this universal orchard to stand still as a tree.

What a heaven is love! O what a hell!

Arguments, like children, should be like the subject that begets them.

Than of a threadbare saint in wisdom's school.

Wrongs, like great whirlwinds, shake highest battlements.

Ay, Marry, sir -- the only rising up in arms is in the arms of a woman!

The best of men That e'er wore earth about him, was a sufferer A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit, The first true gentleman that ever breath'd.

Cast away care, he that loves sorrow lengthens not a day, nor can buy tomorrow; Money is trash, and he that will spend it, Let him drink merrily, fortune will send it.

The calmest husbands make the stormiest wives.