All Great Men Are Partially

As I Give Thought To The Matter, I Find Four Causes For The Apparent Misery Of Old Age; First, It Withdraws Us From Active Accomplishments; Second, It Renders The Body Less Powerful; Third, It Deprives Us Of Almost All Forms Of Enjoyment; Fourth, It Stands Not Far From Death.

A True Friend Is A Sort Of Second Self.

Death Darkens His Eyes, And Unplumes His Wings, Yet The Sweetest Song Is The Last He Sings: Live So, My Love, That When Death Shall Come, Swan-like And Sweet It May Waft Thee Home.

He Who Suffers, Remembers.

History Is Indeed The Witness Of The Times, The Light Of Truth.