The outer passes away; the innermost is the same yesterday, today, and forever.
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- Old age is not a matter for sorrow. It is matter for thanks if we have left our work done behind us.
- Today is not yesterday: we ourselves change; how can our works and thoughts, if they are always to be the fittest, continue always the same? Change, indeed is painful; yet ever needful; and if memory have its force and worth, so also has hope.
- The illimitable, silent, never-resting thing called Time, rolling, rushing on, swift, silent, like an all-embracing ocean-tide, on which we and all the universe swim like exhalations, like apparitions which are, and then are not: this is forever very literally a miracle; a thing to strike us dumb, for we have no word to speak about it.
- History shows that the majority of people that have done anything great have passed their youth in seclusion.
- Youth is to all the glad season of life; but often only by what it hopes, not by what it attains, or what it escapes.
- Writing is a dreadful labor, yet not so dreadful as Idleness.