“The warmth is spring is near. It smells of hope and cheer. The budding bulbs of daffodils will end the endless fear.”

Oh, you fool. You turned cold and stopped loving when the world needed it most.

Sunshine comes after rain. Rain comes after sunshine. Joy and sadness remain in an eternal back and forth. Such balance hold the world in place.

I trust the universe. If we exist for each other, time will bring is both back to our beginning.

I sacrificed you for life, hope, optimism. Do you expect me to regret that?

You are a question that I’ll never know the answer to.

We are gardens. We flourish and grow. Despite the rain, despite the snow.

I’ve learned the difference between being a good person and being a popular.

The hardest goodbyes are the ones you never got to say.

My dearest contradiction. You are soft and obliterating, like the moon’s glare upon a sinner.

I’d prefer to wield a rose than to wield the gun.

We parted sadly, like children in the street on a pleasant june afternoon.

I ache and long and feel in a language older than ours; one without words or phrases, consisting only of melancholy.

Every word I write is crude and weak when it comes to conveying you how much I appreciate you.

We are all marks of condensation on polished glass; steadily fading away.

The only person you’ll spend your entire life with is yourself. You should be your first focus.

Branches bow, longing to reach the crisp, punctured leaves, their old shedded skin.

Buy straw hats in the wintertime. Summer will surely come.

It is difficult to speak adequately or justly of London. It is not a pleasant place; it is not agreeable, or cheerful, or easy, or exempt from reproach. It is only magnificent.

The cozy fire is bright and gay, The merry kettle boils away and hums a cheerful song. I sing the saucer and the cup; Pray, Mary, fill the teapot up, And do not make it strong

If your best friend’s feeling tearful, Try not to be too cheerful. Just let her fill your ear full Of sad tales by the score. And when she is through, She’ll feel as good as.

If the Lord loveth a cheerful giver, as St. Paul says, we may depend upon it that He loveth a cheerful worker; and where we can cleave the way to His love there we find His endless generosity.

Though my friends envied me because I always seemed so cheerful and confident, I was secretly terrified of practically everything.

Ripe old age, cheerful, useful, and understanding, is one of the finest influences in the world.

Cheerful endurance of hardships and contempt of surroundings become a virtue in a pioneer. Comfort is a comparatively new thing in the United States.