Father Time is not always a hard parent and though he tarries for none of his children, often lays his hand lightly upon those who have used him well; making them old men and women inexorably enough, but leaving their hearts and spirits young and in full vigor. With such people the gray head is but the impression of the old fellow's hand in giving them his blessing, and every wrinkle but a notch in the quiet calendar of a well-spent life.
There are only two styles of portrait painting; the serious and the smirk.
Ride on! Ride on over all obstacles and win the race.
A new heart for a New Year, always!
But I am sure that I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round...as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely.
Procrastination is the thief of time, collar him.
Yes. He is quite a good fellow - nobody's enemy but his own.
Spring is the time of year when it is summer in the sun and winter in the shade.
There are books of which the backs and covers are by far the best parts.
The shadows of our own desires stand between us and our better angels, and thus their brightness is eclipsed.
Vices are sometimes only virtues carried to excess!
Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prism, are all very good words for the lips.
I wear the chains I forged in life.
Trifles make the sum of life.
There is something in sickness that breaks down the pride of manhood.
The broken heart. You think you will die, but you just keep living, day after day after terrible day.
Poetry makes life what lights and music do the stage.
Life is made of ever so many partings welded together.
Most men unconsciously judge the world from themselves, and it will be very generally found that those who sneer habitually at human nature, and affect to despise it, are among its worst and least pleasant samples.
Have you ever had the sensation of looking at someone for the first time and ever so quickly the past and future seem to fuse ? Does that not mean something ? That we felt so much, so deeply, before even speaking?
For nature gives to every time and season some beauties of its own; and from morning to night, as from the cradle to the grave, it is but a succession of changes so gentle and easy that we can scarcely mark their progress.
Minds, like bodies, will often fall into a pimpled, ill-conditioned state from mere excess of comfort.
Although a skillful flatterer is a most delightful companion if you have him all to yourself, his taste becomes very doubtful when he takes to complimenting other people.
There are some upon this earth of yours,' returned the Spirit, 'who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name; who are as strange to us and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on themselves, not us.
There are chords in the human heart- strange, varying strings- which are only struck by accident; which will remain mute and senseless to appeals the most passionate and earnest, and respond at last to the slightest casual touch.
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