Let all thy joys be as the month of May And all thy days be as a marriage day: Let sorrow, sickness, and a troubled mind Be stranger to thee.

And what's a life? - a weary pilgrimage, Whose glory in one day doth fill the stage With childhood, manhood, and decrepit age.

The world's an Inn; and I her guest.

Anger, when it is long in coming, is the stronger when it comes, and the longer kept.