In Women Everything Is Heart, Even The

Feelings Of Man Are Always Pure And The Brightest To The Meeting Time And Farewell.

Joy Descends Gently Upon Us Like The Evening Dew, And Does Not Patter Down Like A Hailstorm.

What Cicero Said Of Men-that They Are Like Wines, Age Souring The Bad, And Bettering The Good-we Can Say Of Misfortune, That It Has The Same Effect Upon Them.

God Is An Unutterable Sigh, Planted In The Depths Of The Soul.

Each Departed Friend Is A Magnet That Attracts Us To The Next World.