“Truth, like the sun, submits to be obscured; but, like the sun, only for a time.”

Hope is the best part of our riches.

Alas, the transports beauty can inspire!

The small courtesies sweeten life; the greater ennoble it.

Four sweet lips, two pure souls, and one undying affection, – these are love’s pretty ingredients for a kiss.

In the assurance of strength there is strength; and they are the weakest, however strong, who have no faith in themselves or their powers.

It is the passion that is in a kiss that gives to it its sweetness; it is the affection in a kiss that sanctifies it.

A book should be luminous not voluminous.

We give our best affections to the beautiful, only our second best to the useful.

Formerly when great fortunes were only made in war, war was a business; but now, when great fortunes are only made by business, business is war.

False friends are like our shadow, keeping close to us while we walk in the sunshine, but leaving us the instant we cross into the shade.

There are seaons when our passions have slept so long that we know not whether they still exist in us. So does flax forget that it is combustible when the fire is away from it.

Life is indeed either a rich possession or a poor, according as it is made subservient to noble aims or ignoble pleasures.

Discretion is the salt, and fancy the sugar of life; the one preserves, the other sweetens it.

Great warriors, like great earthquakes, are principally remembered for the mischief they have done.

Give me the character and I will forecast the event.

To vindicate the sanctity of human life by taking it is an outrage upon reason. The spectacle of a human being dangling at the end of a gallows-rope is a degradation of humanity.

You’ve retracted your rays of warmth. You’ve pulled the clouds to cover sunlight. I think everyone is growing more concerned as the days keep passing and you’re still absent.

So we danced in the rain and woke to the haze of a sunrise painted in honey.

Even when your tears have soaked through the last pages of your book, the sun will dry them and illuminate every word of your story.

I’m the fire that dances in the rain, I’m the love that lives in my heart. I’m the broken heart that crashes, I’m the phoenix rising from the ashes. I’m healing and scars, I’m the sun and all the stars.

When the sun goes down, sometimes I am psychotic, sometimes I am reckless, sometimes I am aggressive but when I talk to the moon about the life on Earth, I am forgiven because the night understands me.

I loved you as Icarus loved the sun- too close, too much.

You were the sun to me, but tell me how come your sunbeams have so many shadows?

The sun doesn’t abandon the moon to darkness.