It is well for the world that in most of us, by the age of thirty, the >>
I know that you, ladies and gentlemen, have a philosophy, each and all >>
The further limits of our being plunge, it seems to me, into an altoge >>
The closing years of life are like the end of a masquerade party, when >>
At twenty a man is a peacock, at thirty a lion, at forty a camel, at f >>
It is a sobering thought, that when Mozart was my age he had been dead >>
How can the moribund old man reason back to himself the romance, the mystery, the imminence of great things with which our old earth tingled for him in the days when he was young and well?