faces deceive, and the loveliness of youth is not like the loveliness of age - an absolute mirror of the soul within.
The hand will often reveal more than the countenance.
He who steps on stones is glad to feel the smallest spray of moss beneath his feet.
Though I have had no adventures, I feel capable of them.
The finger of suspicion never forgets the way it has once pointed.
It was the smile which runs before a promise.