He sleeps. Although his fate was very strange, He lived. He died when he had no longer his angel. The thing came to pass simply, of itself, As the night comes when day is gone. a

It is the lineaments of the years which form the countenance of the century.

The house, it's already been a-settin' here for a hundred years. It'll be right here tomorrow. It's today I must be livin'.

We have only one life. We may waste it, or we may use it to learn of God and what God wants for us. And we all make mistakes. Only one life.

Memories, important yesterdays, were once todays. Treasure and notice today.

Dying seems less sad than having lived too little.

The older I get, the more intensely I feel about the world around me.

Her husband stops by on his way to the cashier and suggests I see the huge statue of Crazy Horse that's being dynamited out of the Black Hills. "Crazy Horse riding his pony," he says, "is going to make all those Indian-killing presidents on Mount Rushmore look like nothing.

I forewarn you, this will be a rather long talk. I am an old man. I do not know how much longer I will live, and so I want to say what I have to say, while I have the strength to say it. ...Having been warned, some of you will wish to get comfortable. Pleasant dreams.

Live today as if you were going to live forever, for you surely shall.

When some men die it is as if you had lost your pen-knife, and were subject to perpetual inconvenience until you could get another. Other men's going is like the vanishing of a great mountain from the landscape, and the outlook of life is changed forever.

All say, "How hard it is that we have to die" — a strange complaint to come from the mouths of people who have had to live.