Tea Cake, the son of the Evening Sun, had to die for loving her.
There are years that ask questions and years that answer.
Love, I find, is like singing. Everybody can do enough to satisfy themselves, though it may not impress the neighbors as being very much.
Perhaps love is a compelling necessity imposed on man by God that has something to do with suffering
It's no use of talking unless people understand what you say.
Bitterness is the coward's revenge on the world for having been hurt.