Maxioms by Amelia Barr
It is only in sorrow bad weather masters us; in joy we face the storm and defy it.
It is only in sorrow bad weather masters us; in joy we face the storm and defy it.
But what do we know of the heart nearest to our own? What do we know of our own heart?
But what do we know of the heart nearest to our own? What do we know of our own heart?
It is little men know of women; their smiles and their tears alike are seldom what they seem.
It is little men know of women; their smiles and their tears alike are seldom what they seem.
. . . solitude is such a potential thing. We hear voices in solitude, we never hear in the hurry read more
. . . solitude is such a potential thing. We hear voices in solitude, we never hear in the hurry and turmoil of life; we receive counsels and comforts, we get under no other condition . . .
All changes are more or less tinged with melancholy, for what we are leaving behind is part of ourselves.
All changes are more or less tinged with melancholy, for what we are leaving behind is part of ourselves.
