The miracle on earth are the laws of heaven.

Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time.

As a man grows older it is harder and harder to frighten him.

The heart needs not for its heaven much space, nor many stars therein, if only the star of love has arisen.

The purer the golden vessel, the more readily is it bent; the higher worth of woman is sooner lost than that of man.

There are souls which fall from heaven like flowers, but ere they bloom are crushed under the foul tread of some brutal hoof.

It is easy to flatter; it is harder to praise.