To Be Seventy Years Young

And If I Should Live To Be The Last Leaf Upon The Tree In The Spring, Let Them Smile, As I Do Now, At The Old Forsaken Bough Where I Cling.

People Who Honestly Mean To Be True Really Contradict Themselves Much More Rarely Than Those Who Try To Be 'consistent'.

Don't You Stay At Home Of Evenings? Don't You Love A Cushioned Seat In A Corner, By The Fireside, With Your Slippers On Your Feet?

Language Is The Blood Of The Soul Into Which Thoughts Run And Out Of Which They Grow.

A Person Is Always Startled When He Hears Himself Seriously Called An Old Man For The First Time.