If your heart is a volcano, how shall you expect flowers to bloom?

My friends: Music is the language of spirits. Its melody is like the frolicsome breeze that makes the strings quiver with love. When the gentle fingers of Music knock at the door of our feelings, they awaken memories that have long lain hidden in the depths of the Past. The sad strains of Music bring us mournful recollections; and her quiet strains bring us joyful memories. The sound of strings makes us weep at the departure of a dear one, or makes us smile at the peace God has bestowed upon us.

Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon your reason and your judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite.

The biggest thing in today's sorrow is the memory of yesterday's joy.

I deserted the world and sought solitude because I became tired of rendering courtesy to those multitudes who believe that humility is a sort of weakness, and mercy a kind of cowardice, and snobbery a form of strength.

Beauty is that which attracts your soul, and that which loves to give and not to receive.

One day you will ask me which is more important? My life or yours? I will say mine and you will walk away not knowing that you are my life.