It is folly to pretend that one ever wholly recovers from a disappointed passion. Such wounds always leave a scar. There are faces I can never look upon without emotion, there are names I can never hear spoken without almost starting.

In this world a man must either be anvil or hammer.

Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend.

The smoking flax before it burst to flame Was quenched by death, and broken the bruised reed.

The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain.

Think not because no man sees, such things will remain unseen.

Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.