You May Also Like / View all maxioms
Now my days are swifter than a post: they flee away, they see no
good.
Now my days are swifter than a post: they flee away, they see no
good.
(He) put that which was most material in the postscript.
(He) put that which was most material in the postscript.
Good-bye--my paper's out so nearly,
I've only room for, Yours sincerely.
Good-bye--my paper's out so nearly,
I've only room for, Yours sincerely.
Kind messages, that pass from land to land;
Kind letters, that betray the heart's deep history,
In read more
Kind messages, that pass from land to land;
Kind letters, that betray the heart's deep history,
In which we feel the pressure of a hand,--
One touch of fire,--and all the rest is mystery!
A strange volume of real life in the daily packet of the postman.
Eternal love and instant payment!
A strange volume of real life in the daily packet of the postman.
Eternal love and instant payment!
He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch,
Cold and yet cheerful; messenger of grief
Perhaps to thousands, read more
He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch,
Cold and yet cheerful; messenger of grief
Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some.
The welcome news is in the letter found;
The carrier's not commission'd to expound;
It speaks itself, read more
The welcome news is in the letter found;
The carrier's not commission'd to expound;
It speaks itself, and what it does contain,
In all things needful to be known is plain.
I have only made this letter rather long because I have not had
time to make it shorter.
read more
I have only made this letter rather long because I have not had
time to make it shorter.
[Fr., Je n'ai fait celle-ci plus longue que parceque je n'ai pas
eu le loisir de la faire plus courte.]
Letters, from absent friends, extinguish fear,
Unite division, and draw distance near;
Their magic force each silent read more
Letters, from absent friends, extinguish fear,
Unite division, and draw distance near;
Their magic force each silent wish conveys,
And wafts embodied though, a thousand ways:
Could souls to bodies write, death's pow'r were mean,
For minds could then meet minds with heav'n between.