Apothegms Form A Short Cut To Much

A Moment's Thinking Is An Hour In Words.

Comfort And Indolence Are Cronies.

The Autumn Is Old; The Sere Leaves Are Flying; He Hath Gather'd Up Gold, And Now He Is Dying;- Old Age, Begin Sighing!

I Remember, I Remember The Roses, Red And White, The Violets, And The Lily-cups, Those Flowers Made Of Light! The Lilacs, Where The Robin Built, And Where My Brother Set The Laburmum On His Birthday,- The Tree Is Living Yet.

For My Part, Getting Up Seems Not So Easy By Half As Lying.