All things journey: sun and moon, Morning, noon, and afternoon, Night and all her stars; 'Twixt the east and western bars Round they journey, Come and go! We go with them!

Life began with waking up and loving my mother's face.

In Rome it seems as if there were so many things which are more wanted in the world than pictures.

Beauty is part of the finished language by which goodness speaks.

No evil dooms us hopelessly except the evil we love, and desire to continue in, and make no effort to escape from.

That farewell kiss which resembles greeting, that last glance of love which becomes the sharpest pang of sorrow.

We all remember epochs in our experience when some dear expectation dies, or some new motive is born.