Gone! gone forever!-like a rushing wave
Another year has burst upon the shore
Of earthly being-and its last low tones,
Wandering in broken accents in the air,
Are dying to an echo.
It is in vain to hope to please all alike. Let a man stand with his face in what direction he will, he must necessarily turn his back on one half of the world.
Our material possessions, like our joys, are enhanced in value by being shared. Hoarded and unimproved property can only afford satisfaction to a miser.