There is hope for all of us. Well, anyway, if you don't die you live t >>
We grow neither better or worse as we get old, but more like ourselves >>
Gray hairs seem to my fancy like the soft light of the moon, silvering >>
That old man dies prematurely whose memory records no benefits conferr >>
Age carries all things away, even the mind. >>
We grow neither better or worse as we get old, but more like ourselves.