When you wear your old and shabby coat, anticipating a continued storm; and the sun shines, making you out of place with your ill-chosen garb, how natural it is to trace the analogy from dress to manners, and to reflect how poor a show premeditated surliness and sourness make in the broad light of the world!
We die and are forgotten; but must we forget?
The Greek pastoral compliment, "Thou singest better than a cicada," would do very well now-a-days for an amiable old lady to address to her tea-kettle on the hob.
Thoreau greatly rejoiced in what he called his "invisible suit," a sort of mottled brown-and-green stuff in which he could cross a field undetected.
There was once a golden age because golden hearts beat in it. If it come again, it will scarcely be through scientific progress.