Be Happy Without Picking Flaws.

To Love Another Person Is To See The Face Of God.

Promise To Give Me A Kiss On My Brow When I Am Dead.--i Shall Feel It.

Winter Changes Into Stone The Water Of Heaven And The Heart Of Man.

Jean Prouvaire Was Timid Only In Repose. Once Excited, He Burst Forth, A Sort Of Mirth Accentuated His Enthusiasm, And He Was At Once Both Laughing And Lyric.

The Memory Of An Absent Person Shines In The Deepest Recesses Of The Heart, Shining The More Brightly The More Wholly Its Object Has Vanished: A Light On The Horizon Of The Despairing, Darkened Spirit; A Star Gleaming In Our Inward Night.