Every Day Travels Toward Death; The Last

Fame Is But An Inscription On A Grave, And Glory The Melancholy Blazon On A Coffin Lid.

And In Any Case, To The Old Man, When The World Becomes Trite, The Triteness Arises Not So Much From A Cessation As From A Transference Of Interest. What Is Taken From This World Is Given To The Next. The Glory Is In The East In The Morning, It Is In The West In The Afternoon, And When It Is Dark The Splendour Is Irradiating The Realm Of The Under-world. He Would Only Follow.

It Is A Characteristic Of Pleasure That We Can Never Recognize It To Be Pleasure Till After It Is Gone.

The Saddest Thing That Befalls A Soul Is When It Loses Faith In God And Woman.

Trees Are Your Best Antiques