Compliments win friends, honesty loses them.

Life finds its wealth by the claims of the world, and its worth by the claims of love.

The hours trip rapidly away, hiding their dreams in their skirts.

Dark clouds become heaven's flowers when kissed by light.

A butterfly flitting from flower to flower ever remains mine, I lose the one that is netted by me.

We cross infinity with every step; we meet eternity in every second.

Things in which we do not take joy are either a burden upon our minds to be got rid of at any cost; or they are useful, and therefore in temporary and partial relation to us, becoming burdensome when their utility is lost; or they are like wandering vagabonds, loitering for a moment on the outskirts of our recognition, and then passing on. A thing is only completely our own when it is a thing of joy to us.