It is not the end of joy that makes old age so sad, but the end of hope.
Jesus is the purest among the mighty, and the mightiest among the pure, who, with his pierced hand has raised empires from their foundations, turned the stream of history from its old channel, and still continues to rule and guide the ages
Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time.
If self-knowledge is the road to virtue, so is virtue still more the road to self-knowledge.
The burden of suffering seems a tombstone hung about our necks, while in reality it is only the weight which is necessary to keep down the diver while he is hunting for pearls.
The miracle on earth are the laws of heaven.
With so many thousand joys, is it not black ingratitude to call the world a place of sorrow and torment?
Only deeds give strength to life, only moderation gives it charm.
A sky full of silent suns.
The conscience of children is formed by the influences that surround them; their notions of good and evil are the result of the moral atmosphere they breathe.
Humanity is never so beautiful as when praying for forgiveness, or else forgiving another.
Strong characters are brought out by change of situation, and gentle ones by permanence.
As winter strips the leaves from around us, so that we may see the distant regions they formerly concealed, so old age takes away our enjoyments only to enlarge the prospect of the coming eternity.
It is simpler and easier to flatter people than to praise them.
It has been jestingly said that the works of John Paul Richter are almost unintelligible to any but the Germans, and even to some of them. A worthy German, just before Richter's death, edited a complete edition of his works, in which one particular passage fairly puzzled him. Determined to have it explained at the source, he went to John Paul himself. The author's reply was very characteristic: "My good friend, when I wrote that passage, God and I knew what it meant; it is possible that God knows it still; but as for me, I have totally forgotten."
There are souls which fall from heaven like flowers, but ere they bloom are crushed under the foul tread of some brutal hoof.
Every friend is to the other a sun, and a sunflower also. He attracts and follows.
Flowers never emit so sweet and strong a fragrance as before a storm. When a storm approaches thee, be as fragrant as a sweet-smelling flower.
Every man regards his own life as the New Year's Eve of time.
A woman who could always love would never grow old; and the love of mother and wife would often give or preserve many charms if it were not too often combined with parental and conjugal anger. There remains in the face of women who are naturally serene and peaceful, and of those rendered so by religion, an after-spring, and later an after-summer, the reflex of their most beautiful bloom.
Romanticism is beauty without bounds-the beautiful infinite.
For no one does life drag more disagreeably than for those who try to speed it up.
There are so many tender and holy emotions flying about in our inward world, which, like angels, can never assume the body of an outward act; so many rich and lovely flowers spring up which bear no seed, that it is a happiness poetry was invented, which receives into its limbs all these incorporeal spirits, and the perfume of all these flowers.
Memory, wit, fancy, acuteness, cannot grow young again in old age, but the heart can.
The darkness of death is like the evening twilight; it makes all objects appear more lovely to the dying.
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