Whenever Nature Leaves A Hole In A

Life Hath Quicksands, Life Hath Snares!

My Soul Is Full Of Longing For The Secret Of The Sea

Sorrow And Silence Are Strong, And Patient Endurance Is Godlike.

In Old Age Our Bodies Are Worn-out Instruments, On Which The Soul Tries In Vain To Play The Melodies Of Youth. But Because The Instrument Has Lost Its Strings, Or Is Out Of Tune, It Does Not Follow That The Musician Has Lost His Skill.

It Is Folly To Pretend That One Ever Wholly Recovers From A Disappointed Passion. Such Wounds Always Leave A Scar. There Are Faces I Can Never Look Upon Without Emotion, There Are Names I Can Never Hear Spoken Without Almost Starting.