Life is less than nothing without love.
We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not figures on a dial. We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
Hell is more bearable than nothingness.
Evil then results from imperfection.
Could I love less, I should be happier now.
Love is the art of hearts, and heart or arts.