What Makes Old Age So

Joys Are Our Wings, Sorrows Our Spurs.

Never Part Without Loving Words To Think Of During Your Absence. It May Be That You Will Not Meet Again In This Life.

Gray Hairs Seem To My Fancy Like The Soft Light Of The Moon, Silvering Over The Evening Of Life.

Love Lessens Woman's Delicacy And Increases Man's.

Because The Heart Beats Under A Covering Of Hair, Of Fur, Feathers, Or Wings, It Is, For That Reason, To Be Of No Account?