The graves of those we have loved and lost distress and console as.

There are two persons in the world we never see as they are,--one's self and one's other self.

Genius has its fatality. Must we not see in its works a manifestation of the will of Providence?

Up to forty a woman has only forty springs in her heart. After that age she has only forty winters.

Hope is the virgin of the ideal world, who opens beaten to as in the midst of every tempest.

The graves of those we have loved and lost distress and console as.

Whoever embarks with women embarks with a storm; but they are themselves the safety boats.