Consolation heaps without contact; somewhat like the blessed air which we need but to breathe.
Loving souls are like paupers. They live on what is given them.
Old age is not one of the beauties of creation, but it is one of its harmonies.
In this world of change naught which comes stays and naught which goes is lost.
There are words which are worth as much as the best actions, for they contain the germ of them all.
By becoming unhappy, we sometimes learn how to be less so.