George Meredith

A witty woman is a treasure; a witty beauty is a power.

Not till the fire is dying in the grate, Look we for any kinship with the stars. Oh, wisdom never comes when it is gold, And the great price we paid for it full worth: We have it only when we are half earth. Little avails that coinage to the old!

Days, when the ball of our vision_x000D_ _x000D_ Had eagles that flew unabashed to sun;_x000D_ _x000D_ When the graps on the bow was decision,_x000D_ _x000D_ And arrow and hand and eye were one;_x000D_ _x000D_ When the Pleasures, like waves to a swimmer,_x000D_ _x000D_ Came heaving for rapture ahead! -_x000D_ _x000D_ Invoke them, they dwindle, they glimmer_x000D_ _x000D_ As lights over mounds of the dead.

Memoirs are the backstairs of history.