Look Back, And Smile On Perils Past.

If You Keep A Thing Seven Years, You Are Sure To Find A Use For It.

Many Of Our Cares Are But A Morbid Way Of Looking At Our Privileges

Love, To Her Ear, Was But A Name, Combin'd With Vanity And Shame; Her Hopes, Her Fears, Her Joys, Were All Bounded Within The Cloister Wall.

Here Is Neither Want Of Appetite Nor Mouths, Pray Heaven We Be Not Scant Of Meat Or Mirth.

When Thinking About Companions Gone, We Feel Ourselves Doubly Alone.