The heart needs not for its heaven much space, nor many stars therein, if only the star of love has arisen.
What makes old age so sad is, not that our joys, but that our hopes then cease.
A man never discloses his own character so clearly as when he describes anothers.
There is a joy in sorrow which none but a mourner can know.
It is not great, but little good-haps that make up happiness.
A loving maiden grows unconsciously more bold.