The old are in a second childhood.
By words the mind is winged.
They love, they hate, but cannot do without him.
Have you ever, looking up, seen a cloud like to a Centaur, a Part, or a Wolf, or a Bull?
Your lost friends are not dead, but gone before, Advanced a stage or two upon that road Which you must travel in the steps they trod.
Your lost friends are not dead, but gone before, advanced a stage or two upon that road which you must travel in the steps they trod.
Meton: With the straight ruler I set to work to make the circle four-cornered.
Hunger knows no friend but its feeder.
The wise learn many things from their enemies.
Ye children of man! whose life is a span Protracted with sorrow from day to day, Naked and featherless, feeble and querulous, Sickly, calamitous creatures of clay.
Times change. The vices of your age are stylish today.