There is nothing ridiculous in love.

A pat on the back is only a few vertebrae removed from a kick in the pants, but is miles ahead in results.

Love much. Earth has enough of bitter in it.

All in the dark we grope along, And if we go amiss We learn at least which path is wrong, And there is gain in this. We do not always win the race By only running right; We have to tread the mountain's base Before we reach its height.

And let its meaning permeate each day. Whatever comes, This too shall pass away.

Love gives us copious potions of delight, Of pain and ecstasy, and peace and care; Love leads us upward, to the mountain height, And, like an angel, stands beside us there; Then thrusts us, demon-like, in some abyss: Where, in the darkness of despair, we grope, Till, suddenly, Love greets us with a kiss And guides us back to flowery fields of hope.

No question is ever settled until it is settled right.