Look upon the errors of others in sorrow, not in anger.

For age is opportunity no less Than youth itself, though in another dress, And as the evening twilight fades away The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.

Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood.

Whenever nature leaves a hole in a person's mind, she generally plasters it over with a thick coat of self-conceit.

The true poet is a friendly man. He takes to his arms even cold and inanimate things, and rejoices in his heart.

The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.

The first pressure of sorrow crushes out from our hearts the best wine; afterwards the constant weight of it brings forth bitterness, the taste and stain from the lees of the vat.