To Speak Of Love Is To Make

A Mother's Happiness Is Like A Beacon, Lighting Up The Future But Reflected Also On The Past In The Guise Of Fond Memories.

Gratitude Is A Fool's Word; We Find It In The Dictionary, But It Is Not In The Heart Of Man.

It Is Very Difficult To Pass From Pleasure To Work. Accordingly More Poems Have Been Swallowed Up By Sorrow Than Ever Happiness Caused To Blaze Forth In Unparalleled Radiance.

We Love Because We Love.

At Thirty Years A Woman Asks Her Lover To Give Her Back The Esteem She Has Forfeited For His Sake; She Lives Only For Him, Her Thoughts Are Full Of His Future, He Must Have A Great Career, She Bids Him Make It Glorious; She Can Obey, Entreat, Command, Humble Herself, Or Rise In Pride; Times Without Number She Brings Comfort When A Young Girl Can Only Make Moan.