On the neck of the young man sparkles no gem so gracious as enterprise. Youth condemns; maturity condones.
May is much sunshine through small leaves.
Can you see through the night, woman, that you stare so upon it? Man, what sparks do your eyes follow in the smouldering darkness?
If what we worship fail us, still the fire burns on, and it is much to have believed.
Even pain pricks to livelier living.
Happiness, to some, is elation; to others it is mere stagnation.