The care of God for us is a great thing, if a man believe it at heart: it plucks the burden of sorrow from him.
I care for riches, to make gifts.
The language of truth is simple.
High honors are sweet To a man's heart, but ever They stand close to the brink of grief.
Love is all we have, the only way that each can help the other.
Alas, how right the ancient saying is: We, who are old, are nothing else but noise And shape. Like mimicries of dreams we go, And have no wits, although we think us wise.