New Year's Day is every man's birthday.
The beggar wears all colors fearing none.
Anything awful makes me laugh. I misbehaved once at a funeral.
A child's nature is too serious a thing to admit of its being regarded as a mere appendage to another being.
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.
In every thing that relates to science, I am a whole Encyclopaedia behind the rest of the world.
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?
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.
'T is sweet to think that where'er we rove We are sure to find something blissful and dear; And that when we 're far from the lips we love, We 've but to make love to the lips we are near.
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.
There was a little man, and he had a little soul; And he said, Little Soul, let us try, try, try!
When true hearts lie wither'd And fond ones are flown, Oh, who would inhabit This bleak world alone?
If there be a regal solitude, it is a sick-bed. How the patient lords it there!
What a dead thing is a clock, with its ponderous embowelments of lead and brass, its pert or solemn dullness of communication, compared with the simple altar-like structure and silent heart-language of the old sundials! It stood as the garden god of Christian gardens. Why is it almost everywhere vanished? If its business-use be superseded by more elaborate inventions, its moral uses, its beauty, might have pleaded for its continuance.
Cultivate simplicity, Coleridge.
The laws of Pluto's kingdom know small difference between king and cobbler, manager and call-boy; and, if haply your dates of life were conterminant, you are quietly taking your passage, cheek by cheek (O ignoble levelling of Death) with the shade of some recently departed candle-snuffer.
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