A lost love. Deny it who will, ridicule it, treat it as mere imagination and sentiment, the thing is and will be; and women do suffer therefrom, in all its infinite varieties: loss by death, by faithlessness or unworthiness, and by mistaken or unrequited affection.

To accept the inevitable; neither to struggle against it nor murmur at it-this is the great lesson of life.

Nothing but a speck we seem In the waste of waters round, Floating, floating like a dream, Outward bound.

To-morrow is ah, whose?

absence ... smothers into decay a rootless fancy but often nourishes the least seed of a true affection into full-flowering love.

A lost love. Deny it who will, ridicule it, treat it as mere imagination and sentiment, the thing is and will be; and women do suffer therefrom, in all its infinite varieties: loss by death, by faithlessness or unworthiness, and by mistaken or unrequited affection.

The wonder is not that some married people are less happy than they hoped to be, but that any married people, out of the honeymoon, or even in it, are ever happy at all.