“Man’s wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.”

For deeds to die, however nobly done, And thoughts of men to as themselves decay, But wise words taught in numbers for to run, Recorded by the Muses, live for ay.

Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.

Me seems the world is run quite out of square,From the first point of his appointed source,And being once amiss grows daily worse and worse.

In one consort there sat cruel revenge and rancorous despite, disloyal treason and heart-burning hate.

But Justice, though her dome she doe prolong, Yet at the last she will her owne cause right.

A sweet attractive kind of grace, A full assurance given by looks, Continual comfort in a face, The lineaments of Gospel books– I trow that countenance cannot lye Whose thoughts are legible in the eye.

The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne.

But angels come to lead frail minds to rest in chaste desires, on heavenly beauty bound. You frame my thoughts, and fashion me within; you stop my tongue, and teach my heart to speak.

Hard it is to teach the old horse to amble anew.

Bright as does the morning star appear, Out of the east with flaming locks bedight, To tell the dawning day is drawing near.

For whatsoever from one place doth fall, Is with the tide unto an other brought: For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.

So passeth, in the passing of a day, Of mortal life the leaf, the bud, the flower.

For easy things, that may be got at will, Most sorts of men do set but little store.

Fly from wrath; sad be the sights and bitter fruits of war; a thousand furies wait on wrathful swords.

Greatest god below the sky.

Hasty wrath and heedless hazardy do breed repentance late and lasting infamy.

Well, well, he said. Five days a week isnt enough of me? Had to give me an evening, too?

A fellow ought to save a few of the long evenings he spends with his girl till after they’re married.

That evening she glowed. She gave off a vibration of energy that he suspected only he could detect.

The world gets better every day – then worse again in the evening.

The beauty of the morning and the radiance of noon are good, but it would be a very silly person who drew the curtains and turned on the light in order to shut out the tranquillity of the evening. Old age has its pleasures, which, though different, are not less than the pleasures of youth.

Illuminating and making glad again the dark clouds of life. It is the morning and the evening star, that in glad refulgence, there on the awed horizon, call Nature’s hearts to an uplifted rejoicing in God’s marvelous firmament!

Being human, she suffered from this lack and did what she could to make up for it. If she passed the evening bent over a table in the library and later declared that she had spent that time playing cards, it was as though she had managed to do both those things.

There are three reasons for becoming a writer: the first is that you need the money; the second that you have something to say that you think the world should know; the third is that you can’t think what to do with the long winter evenings.