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.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowLove makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood; as the Emperors signed their names in green ink when under age, but when of age, in purple.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowYe are better than all the ballads That ever were sung or said; For ye are living poems, And all the rest are dead.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowWe waste our best years in distilling the sweetest flowers of life into potions which, after all, do not immortalize, but only intoxicate.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow