All Sorrows Are Bearable, If There Is

Until Death It Is All Life.

Happy The Man To Whom Heaven Has Given A Morsel Of Bread Without Laying Him Under The Obligation Of Thanking Any Other For It Than Heaven Itself.

Truth May Be Stretched, But Cannot Be Broken, And Always Gets Above Falsehood, As Does Oil Above Water.

'tis Said Of Love That It Sometimes Goes, Sometimes Flies; Runs With One, Walks Gravely With Another; Turns A Third Into Ice, And Sets A Fourth In A Flame: It Wounds One, Another It Kills: Like Lightning It Begins And Ends In The Same Moment: It Makes That Fort Yield At Night Which It Besieged But In The Morning; For There Is No Force Able To Resist It.

The Proof Is In The Pudding.