There is just one life for each of us: our own.
Slight not what's near through aiming at what's far.
Time will cure you, but now is your grief still young.
Oh, trebly blest the placid lot of those whose hearth foundations are in pure love laid, where husband's breast with tempered ardor glows, and wife, oft mother, is in heart a maid!
Do not grieve so much for a husband lost that it wastes away your life.
Our lives ... are but a little while, so let them run as sweetly as you can, and give no thought to grief from day to day. For time is not concerned to keep our hopes, but hurries on its business, and is gone.