“Who would give a law to lovers? Love is unto itself a higher law.”

Music is so naturally united with us that we cannot be free from it – even if we so desired.

The now that passes produces time, the now that remains produces eternity.

Whose souls, albeit in a cloudy memory, yet seek back their good, but, like drunk men, know not the road home.

The completely simultaneous and perfect possession of unlimited life at a single moment.

The good is the end toward which all things tend.

Love binds people too, in matrimony’s sacred bonds where chaste lovers are met, and friends cement their trust and friendship. How happy is mankind, if the love that orders the stars above rules, too, in your hearts.

In every kind of adversity, the bitterest part of a man’s affliction is to remember that he once was happy.

Every man must be content with that glory which he may have at home.

You know when you have found your prince because you not only have a smile on your face but in your heart as well. Love puts the fun in together, the sad in apart, and the joy in a heart. Who would give a law to lovers? Love is unto itself a higher law.

For in every ill-turn of fortune the most unhappy sort of unfortunate man is the one who has been happy

Man is so constituted that he then only excels other things when he knows himself.

Love has three kinds of origin, namely: suffering, friendship and love. A human love has a corporal and intellectual origin.

A man content to go to heaven alone will never go to heaven.

A person is an individual substance of a rational nature.

For in all adversity of fortune the worst sort of misery is to have been happy.

Contemplate the extent and stability of the heavens, and then at last cease to admire worthless things.

So pleasurable to live for yourself, not for others.

The curse turned to grace when the hurt turned to faith.

Words could paint pictures.

They say diamonds are made under pressure, but what if I made of glass? and what if I’ll break?

If I were a flower, you were the rain I was longing for.

Silence, I discover, is something you can actually hear.

Maybe that’s why it was so easy for you to break me, you can always tear the pages of an open book.

You don’t share everything about you, so let’s not assume everything about them.