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• The good he scorn'd Stalk'd off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost, Not to retu
  or if it did, in visits Like those of angels, short and far between....
• Of joys departed, Not to return, how painful the remembrance!
  -- Robert Blair (1699-1747) -- The Grave, Part i, Line 109...
• Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul! Sweetener of life!
  and solder of society! -- Robert Blair (1699-1747) -- The Grave, Part i, Line 88...
• The schoolboy, with his satchel in his hand, Whistling aloud to bear his courage up.
  -- Robert Blair (1699-1747) -- The Grave, Part i, Line 58...
• The Grave, dread thing! Men shiver when thou 'rt named
  Nature, appall'd, Shakes off her wonted firmness....
• Many things happen between the cup and the lip. -- Robert Burton (1577-1640) -- The Anatomy of Melancholy, Part ii, Sect.
  2, Memb. 3...
• Who track the steps of glory to the grave.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Monody on the Death of Sheridan, Line 74...
• The more you love, the more you can love--and the more intensely you love.
  Nor is there any limit on how many you can love. If a person had time enough, he could love all of that majority who are decent and just....
• Youth had been a habit of hers so long that she could not part with it.