The more sand that has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it.
Sorrows are like thunderclouds, in the distance they look black, over our heads scarcely gray.
Beauty attracts us men but if, like an armed magnet it is pointed, beside, with gold and silver, it attracts with tenfold power.
Sorrows gather around great souls as storms do around mountains but, like them, they break the storm and purify the air of the plain beneath them.