The perpetual mourner -- the grief that can never be healed -- is innocently enough felt to be wearisome by the rest of the world. And my sense of desolation increases. Each day seems a new beginning -- a new acquaintance with grief.

I think I should have no other mortal wants, if I could always have plenty of music. It seems to infuse strength into my limbs and ideas into my brain. Life seems to go on without effort, when I am filled with music.

To the old, sorrow is sorrow; to the young, it is despair.

Any coward can fight a battle when he's sure of winning.

A child, more than all other gifts That earth can offer to declining man, Brings hope with it, and forward-looking thoughts." —WORDSWORTH.

You youngsters nowadays think you're to begin with living well and working easy; you've no notion of running afoot before you get on horseback.

It's easy finding reasons why other folks should be patient.