A Man's Real Possession Is His Memory.

A Man Gazing At The Stars Is Proverbially At The Mercy Of The Puddles In The Road.

Some Books Are Drenchèd Sandson Which A Great Soul's Wealth Lies All In Heaps,like A Wrecked Argosy.

The Discovery Of A Grey Hair When You Are Brushing Out Your Whiskers Of A Morning - First Fallen Flake Of The Coming Snows Of Age - Is A Disagreeable Thing.

To Be Occasionally Quoted Is The Only Fame I Care For.

A Tender Sadness Drops Upon My Soul, Like The Soft Twilight Dropping On The World.