Youth is a blossom whose fruit is love; happy is he who plucks it after watching it slowly ripen.

There are some situations which men understand by instinct, by which reason is powerless to explain; in such cases the greatest poet is he who gives utterance to the most natural and vehement outburst of sorrow. Those who hear the bitter cry are as much impressed as if they listened to an entire poem, and when th sufferer is sincere they are right in regarding his outburst as sublime.

It is the way of weakened minds to see everything through a black cloud. The soul forms its own horizons; your soul is darkened, and consequently the sky of the future appears stormy and unpromising

...does that not tell you that grief is like life and that there is always somethings unknown beyond it?

I love the life you've always made so sweet for me and I'd regret it if I had to die.' 'Do you mean to say that if I left you---' 'I'd die, yes.' 'Then you love me?

True, I have raped history, but it has produced some beautiful offspring.

To learn is not to know; there are the learners and the learned. Memory makes the one, philosophy the others.