Romanticism is beauty without bounds-the beautiful infinite.
Like a morning dream, life becomes more and more bright the longer we live, and the reason of everything appears more clear. What has puzzled us before seems less mysterious, and the crooked paths look straighter as we approach the end.
Ah! The seasons of love roll not backward but onward, downward forever.
The miracle on earth are the laws of heaven.
Strong characters are brought out by change of situation, and gentle ones by permanence.
Has it never occurred to us, when surrounded by sorrows, that they may be sent to us only for our instruction, as we darken the eyes of birds when we wish them to sing?