Pity speaks to grief more sweetly than a band of instruments.
Despair doth strike as deep a furrow in the brain as mischief or remorse.
How silent are the winds!
The sweetest noise on earth, a woman's tongue; A string which hath no discord.
Women are so gentle, so affectionate, so true in sorrow, so untired and untiring! but the leaf withers not sooner, and tropic light fades not more abruptly.
I said that I loved the wise proverb, Brief, simple and deep; For it I'd exchange the great poem That sends us to sleep.