Because the birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me.
For there is no friend like a sister in calm or stormy weather.
She gave up beauty in her tender youth, gave all her hope and joy and pleasant ways; she covered up her eyes lest they should gaze on vanity, and chose the bitter truth.
Rest, rest at the heart's core . . . till joy shall overtake.
Can anything be sadder than work left unfinished? Yes, work never begun.
My heart is like a singing bird.