Where thou art, that is home....

Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought.

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.

Beauty is not caused. It is.

Youth is the gift of nature, but age is a work of art.

My age and health will never allow me to realize the dream of art I've been pursuing all my life.

The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden, a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it. You and you alone make me feel that I am alive. Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough.

An artist is always alone - if he is an artist. No, what the artist needs is loneliness.

I think when the full horror of being fifty hits you, you should stay home and have a good cry.

Men of age object too much, consult too long, adventure too little, repent too soon, and seldom drive business home to the full period, but content themselves with a mediocrity of success.

Middle age is when you're sitting at home on a Saturday night and the telephone rings and you hope it isn't for you.

Bring a wife home to your house when you are of the right age, not far short of 30 years, nor much above this is the right time for marriage.