Nothing Is More Beautiful Than Cheerfulness In

Passion Makes The Best Observations And The Sorriest Conclusions.

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

Ah! The Seasons Of Love Roll Not Backward But Onward, Downward Forever.

People Will Not Bear It When Advice Is Violently Given, Even If It Is Well Founded. Hearts Are Flowers; They Remain Open To The Softly Falling Dew, But Shut Up In The Violent Downpour Of Rain.

As Winter Strips The Leaves From Around Us, So That We May See The Distant Regions They Formerly Concealed, So Old Age Takes Away Our Enjoyments Only To Enlarge The Prospect Of The Coming Eternity.