Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time.
Every friend is to the other a sun, and a sunflower also. He attracts and follows.
If self-knowledge is the road to virtue, so is virtue still more the road to self-knowledge.
How narrow our souls become when absorbed in any present good or ill! It is only the thought of the future that makes them great.
A sky full of silent suns.
With so many thousand joys, is it not black ingratitude to call the world a place of sorrow and torment?