Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon’s verge.
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- When one subtracts from life infancy (which is vegetation), sleep, eating and swilling, buttoning and unbuttoning — how much remains of downright existence? The summer of a dormouse.
- Life’s enchanted cup sparkles near the brim.
- It is very certain that the desire of life prolongs it.
- Of all the barbarous middle ages, that which is most barbarous is the middle age of man! it is — I really scarce know what; but when we hover between fool and sage, and don’t know justly what we would be at — a period something like a printed page, black letter upon foolscap, while our hair grows grizzled, and we are not what we were.
- Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire — in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?
- I have had, and may have still, a thousand friends, as they are called, in life, who are like one’s partners in the waltz of this world –not much remembered when the ball is over.