Trees are your best antiques
We bury love; Forgetfulness grows over it like grass: That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.
The saddest thing that befalls a soul is when it loses faith in god and woman.
The dead keep their secrets, and in a while we shall be as wise as they - and as taciturn.
A tender sadness drops upon my soul, like the soft twilight dropping on the world.
In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October.