And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
The tears that you spill, the sorrowful, are sweeter than the laughter of snobs and the guffaws of scoffers.
joy and sorrow are inseparable. . . together they come and when one sits alone with you . . remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Hearts united in pain and sorrow will not be separated by joy and happiness. Bonds that are woven in sadness are stronger than the ties of joy and pleasure. Love that is washed by tears will remain eternally pure and faithful.
Sadness is but a wall between two gardens.
What difference is there between us, save a restless dream that follows my soul but fears to come near you?
I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart for the joys of the multitude. And I would not have the tears that sadness makes to flow from my every part turn into laughter. I would that my life remain a tear and a smile.
Life is but a sleep disturbed by dreaming, prompted by the will; the saddened soul with sadness hides it's secrets, and the gay, with thrill.
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