I purified my lips with sacred fire that I might speak of love, but when I opened my mouth to speak, I found myself mute.
Let passion fill your sails, but let reason be your rudder.
You may give them your love, but not your thoughts. For they have their own thoughts.
The smallest act of kindness is worth more than the greatest intention.
But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs a while in the wind and then is heard no more.
They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish.