Tortoises can tell you more about the road than hares.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
Forgetfulness is a form of freedom.
The veil that clouds your eyes shall be lifted by the hands that wove it.
I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath; I am the memory of a moment of happiness; I am the last gift of the living to the dead; I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.
A look which reveals inward stress adds more beauty to the face, no matter how much tragedy and pain it bespeaks; but the face which, in silence, does not announce hidden mysteries is not beautiful, regardless of the symmetry of its features.