Oh stay! oh stay! Joy so seldom weaves a chain Like this to-night, that oh 't is pain To break its links so soon.
Our spirits grow gray before our hairs.
Antiquity! thou wondrous charm, what art thou? that being nothing art everything? When thou wert, thou wert not antiquity - then thou wert nothing, but hadst a remoter antiquity, as thou calledst it, to look back to with blind veneration; thou thyself being to thyself flat, jejune, modern! What mystery lurks in this retroversion? or what half Januses are we, that cannot look forward with the same idolatry with which we for ever revert! The mighty future is as nothing, being everything! the past is everything, being nothing!
This very night I am going to leave off tobacco! Surely there must be some other world in which this unconquerable purpose shall be realised.
Gluttony and surfeiting are no proper occasions for thanksgiving.
A poor relation—is the most irrelevant thing in nature.
Who has not felt how sadly sweet The dream of home, the dream of home, Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet, When far o'er sea or land we roam?
In every thing that relates to science, I am a whole Encyclopaedia behind the rest of the world.
The cheerful Sabbath bells, wherever heard, Strike pleasant on the sense, most like the voice Of one, who from the far-off hills proclaims Tidings of good to Zion.
Science has succeeded to poetry, no less in the little walks of children than with men. Is there no possibility of averting this sore evil?
I give thee all,-I can no more, Though poor the off'ring be; My heart and lute are all the store That I can bring to thee.
Fly not yet; 't is just the hour When pleasure, like the midnight flower That scorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom for sons of night And maids who love the moon.
A poor relation is the most irrelevant thing in nature, a piece of non pertinent correspondence, an odious approximation, a haunting conscience, a preposterous shadow, lengthening in the noontide of our prosperity.
When I consider how little of a rarity children are -- that every street and blind alley swarms with them -- that the poorest people commonly have them in most abundance -- that there are few marriages that are not blest with at least one of these bargains -- how often they turn out ill, and defeat the fond hopes of their parents, taking to vicious courses, which end in poverty, disgrace, the gallows, etc. -- I cannot for my life tell what cause for pride there can possibly be in having them.
Shut not thy purse-strings always against painted distress.
Nothing puzzles me more than time and space; and yet nothing troubles me less, as I never think about them.
The good things of life are not to be had singly, but come to us with a mixture; like a school-boy's holiday, with a task affixed to the tail of it.
Separate from the pleasure of your company, I don't much care if I never see another mountain in my life.
Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright, Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade.
And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen, The maiden herself will steal after it soon.
There was a little man, and he had a little soul; And he said, Little Soul, let us try, try, try!
A child's nature is too serious a thing to admit of its being regarded as a mere appendage to another being.
All people have their blind side-their superstitions.
Nothing to me is more distasteful than that entire complacency and satisfaction which beam in the countenances of a new married couple; in that of the lady particularly; it tells you that her lot is disposed of in this world; that you can have no hopes for her.
New Year's Day is every man's birthday.
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