The hearts of some women tremble like leaves at every breath of love which reaches them, and they are still again. Others, like the ocean, are moved only by the breath of a storm, and not so easily lulled to rest.

There are favorable hours for reading a book, as for writing it.

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining.

And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares, that infest the day, Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, and silently steal away.

There's nothing in this world so sweet as love. And next to love the sweetest thing is hate.

Ne speaketh not; and yet there lies a conversation in his eyes.

Everyone says that forgiveness is a lovely idea until he has something to forgive.