I met in the street a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat worn, his cloak was out at the elbows, the water passed through his shoes, - and the stars through his soul.
A fall from such a height is rarely straight downwards.
A man trying to escape never thinks himself sufficiently concealed.
To rise from error to truth is rare and beautiful.
He does not weep who does not see.
It is man's consolation that the future is to be a sunrise instead of a sunset.