Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds He all.

The dawn is not distant, nor is the night starless; love is eternal.

I do not believe anyone can be perfectly well, who has a brain and a heart

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.

Often times we call a man [or woman] cold when he [or she] is only sad.

It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old.

Love gives itself; it is not bought.