The mere process of growing old together will make the slightest acquaintance seem a bosom friend.
Logan Pearsall SmithAn echo of music, a face in the street, the wafer of the new moon, a wanton thought - only in the iridescence of things the vagabond soul is happy.
Logan Pearsall SmithThe lusts and greeds of the body scandalize the Soul; but it has to come to heel.
Logan Pearsall Smith