. . .where there is no more hope, song remains.

Life is the flower for which love is the honey.

She worked in order to live, and presently fell in love, also in order to live, for the heart, too, has its hunger.

. . .where there is no more hope, song remains.

Every step which the intelligence of Europe has taken has been in spite of the clerical party.

Happiness lies for those who cry, those who hurt, those who have searched, and those who have tried for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives.

Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.