An aphorism is nothing else but the slightest
form of writing raised to the highest level of expressive communication. Carl William Brown



 Let us love nobly, and live, and add again years and years unto years, till we attain to write threescore: this is the second of our reign.


John Donne (1572-1632, British metaphysical poet)


The secret anniversaries of the heart.


Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1819-1892, American poet)


The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions.


William Wordsworth (1770-1850, British poet)


We placed the wreaths upon the splendid granite sarcophagus, and at its feet, and felt that only the earthly robe we loved so much was there. The pure, tender, loving spirit which loved us so tenderly, is above us -- loving us, praying for us, and free from all suffering and woe -- yes, that is a comfort, and that first birthday in another world must have been a far brighter one than any in this poor world below!


Queen Victoria (1819-1901, British queen)


Are there memories left that are safe from the clutches of phony anniversaries?


W. J. Wetherby


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