The sorrows we imagine are more profound and inconsolable than real life leaves us time for.
If you would be happy all your life, plant a garden.
Summer weather, like being in love,is a philosopher's stone which turns our ordinary days to gold. But not the whole day ... For it is never the whole day, never all our life which is transformed in any happiness, but only the exquisite moments.
Understanding, above all, is a gift we should never offer uninvited.
the urgent crowds out the essential.
We love those we are happy with. We do. For how else can we know we love them, or how else define loving?