I went out into the garden in the morning dusk, When sorrow enveloped me like a cloud; And the breeze brought to my nostril the odor of spices, As balm of healing for a sick soul.
A book is a most delightful companion. It gives, and does not take.
Bitter is wine, but it sweetens all bitterness.
Dive into the sea of thought, and find there pearls beyond price.
Sorrow shatters my heart; And men distress it with blame, Because it follows love.
A proverb has three characteristics: few words, good sense, and a fine image.