Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
Every day confirms my opinion on the superiority of a vicious life - and if Virtue is not its own reward I don't know any other stipend annexed to it.
For in itself a thought, a slumbering thought, is capable of years, and curdles a long life into one hour.
The poor dog, in life the firmest friend. The first to welcome, foremost to defend.
'Tis very certain the desire of life prolongs it.
The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.
Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.
Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.
What is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.
Life's to short for chess.
Life's too short for chess.
There is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such a state?
Every day confirms my opinion on the superiority of a vicious life, and if Virtue is not its own reward, I don't know any other stipend annexed to it.
I slept and dreamt that life was beauty; I woke and found that life was duty.