All that we behold is full of blessings.

I should dread to disfigure the beautiful ideal of the memories of illustrious persons with incongruous features, and to sully the imaginative purity of classical works with gross and trivial recollections.

It is the 1st mild day of March. Each minute sweeter than before... there is a blessing in the air.

Men who can hear the Decalogue, and feel To self-reproach.

But hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity.

But who would force the soul tilts with a straw Against a champion cased in adamant

And suddenly all your troubles melt away, all your worries are gone, and it is for no reason other than the look in your partner's eyes. Yes, sometimes life and love really is that simple.