The present time has one advantage over every other-it is our own.

I would not fear nor wish my fate, But boldly say each night, To-morrow let my sun his beams display, Or in clouds hide them; I have lived today.

It is the fashion to style the present moment an extraordinary crisis.

Happy the man, and happy he alone, He who can call to-day his own; He who, secure within, can say, To-morrow, do thy worst, for I have lived to-day.

The vanishing, volatile froth of the Present which any shadow will alter, any thought blow away, any event annihilate, is every moment converted into the Adamantine Record of the Past.

We can see well into the past; we can guess shrewdly into the future; but that which is rolled up and muffled in impenetrable folds is today.

With the Past, as past, I have nothing to do; nor with the Future as future. I live now, and will verify all past history in my own moments.

If we could wake each morning with no memory Of living before we went to sleep, we might Arrive at a faultless day, once in a great many.

Today is yesterday's pupil.

No mind is much employed upon the present; recollection and anticipation fill up almost all our moments.