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.
Love blinds us to faults, hatred to virtues.
A proverb has three characteristics: few words, good sense, and a fine image.
Sorrow shatters my heart; And men distress it with blame, Because it follows love.
Bitter is wine, but it sweetens all bitterness.
Dive into the sea of thought, and find there pearls beyond price.