Words are like bodies; meanings are like souls.
A proverb has three characteristics: few words, good sense, and a fine image.
Bitter is wine, but it sweetens all bitterness.
Sorrow shatters my heart; And men distress it with blame, Because it follows love.
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.
Who ignores the time walks in darkness, and who explores it is illumined by a great light.