He Who Is Not Master Of His

If The Infinite Had No Me, Then Me Would Be Its Limit. It Would Not Be The Infinite, Therefore It Would Not Be.

Love Is Like A Tree: It Grows By Itself, Roots Itself Deeply In Our Being And Continues To Flourish Over A Heart In Ruin. The Inexplicable Fact Is That The Blinder It Is, The More Tenacious It Is. It Is Never Stronger Than When It Is Completely Unreasonable.

Strong And Rare Natures Are Thus Created; Misery, Almost Always A Stepmother, Is Sometimes A Mother; Privation Gives Birth To Power Of Soul And Mind; Distress Is The Nurse Of Self-respect; Misfortune Is A Good Breast For Great Souls.

Look Not At The Face, Young Girl, Look At The Heart. The Heart Of A Handsome Young Man Is Often Deformed. There Are Hearts In Which Love Does Not Keep. Young Girl, The Pine Is Not Beautiful; It Is Not Beautiful Like The Poplar, But It Keeps Its Foliage In Winter.

If People Did Not Love One Another, I Really Don't See What Use There Would Be In Having Any Spring.