It Is Easy For A Man Who

I Have All My Life Long Been Lying In Bed Till Noon; Yet I Tell All Young Men, And Tell Them With Great Sincerity, That Nobody Who Does Not Rise Early Will Ever Do Any Good.

Friendship, Like Love, Is Destroyed By Long Absence, Though It May Be Increased By Short Intermissions. What We Have Missed Long Enough To Want It, We Value More When It Is Regained; But That Which Has Been Lost Till It Is Forgotten Will Be Found At Last With Little Gladness, And With Still Less If A Substitute Has Supplied The Place.

When A Friend Is Carried To His Grave, We At Once Find Excuses For Every Weakness, And Palliation Of Every Fault. We Recollect A Thousand Endearments, Which Before Glided Off Our Minds Without Impression, A Thousand Favors Unrepaid, A Thousand Duties Unperformed; And Wish, Vainly Wish, For His Return, Not So Much That We May Receive As That We May Bestow Happiness, And Recompense That Kindness Which Before We Never Understood.

A Quibble Is To Shakespeare What Luminous Vapours Are To The Traveller: He Follows It At All Adventures; It Is Sure To Lead Him Out Of His Way And Sure To Engulf Him In The Mire.

Tea's Proper Use Is To Amuse The Idle, And Relax The Studious, And Dilute The Full Meals Of Those Who Cannot Use Exercise, And Will Not Use Abstinence.