And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.
Go where we may, rest where we will, Eternal London haunts us still.
It is only to the happy that tears are a luxury.
The heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close.
The ordinary acts we practice every day at home are of more importance to the soul than their simplicity might suggest.
Though the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see, Yet wherever thou art shall seem Erin to me; In exile thy bosom shall still be my home, And thine eyes make my climate wherever we roam.