Victor Hugo

A mother's arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.

A mother's arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.

And the dream that our mind had sketched in haste
Shall others continue, but never complete.
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And the dream that our mind had sketched in haste
Shall others continue, but never complete.
For none upon earth can achieve his scheme;
The best as the worst are futile here:
We wake at the self-same point of the dream,--
All is here begun, and finished elsewhere.

Joy's smile is much closer to tears than laughter.

Joy's smile is much closer to tears than laughter.

We see past time in a telescope and present time in a microscope. Hence the apparent enormities of the present.

We see past time in a telescope and present time in a microscope. Hence the apparent enormities of the present.

The clouds,--the only birds that never sleep.

The clouds,--the only birds that never sleep.