But the lover's power is the poet's power. He can make love from all the common strings with which this world is strung.

Perhaps when the light of heaven shows us clearly the pitfalls and dangers of the earth road that led to the heavenly city, our sweetest songs of gratitude will be not for the troubles we have conquered, but for those we have escaped.

It is only in sorrow bad weather masters us; in joy we face the storm and defy it.

Love, like destiny, loves surprises.

... how poorly do we love even those whom we love most! We are not only bruised by the limitations of their love for us, but also by the limitations of our own love for them.

The first step is what I like to be sure of ... to the second step it often binds you.

Death is like the setting of the sun. The sun never sets; life never ceases. ... we think the sun sets, and it never ceases shining; we think our friends die, and they never cease living.