A minute moving among the patterns of beauty and the dreams of love is greater and more precious than an age filled with splendor granted by the weak to the strong.
History does not repeat itself except in the minds of those who do not know history.
Love is a gracious host to his guests though to the unbidden his house is a mirage and a mockery.
He who loses his mother loses a pure soul who blesses and guards him constantly.
Your friend is your needs answered.
Some of our children are our justifications and some are but our regrets