Character demonstrates itself in trifles.
With fatal, fatal Love a girlhood goes.
Children are born optimists and we slowly educate them out of their heresy
The fears of what may come to pass, I cast them all away, Among the clover scented grass, Among the new-mown hay.
Idleness, simon-pure, from which all manner of good springs like seed from a fallow soil, is sure to be misnamed and misconstrued.
The hand betrays the heart.