Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.

Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.

Let me moderate our sorrows. The grief of a man should not
exceed proper bounds, but be in proportion read more

Let me moderate our sorrows. The grief of a man should not
exceed proper bounds, but be in proportion to the blow he has
received.
[Lat., Ponamus nimios gemitus: flagrantior aequo
Non debet dolor esse viri, nec vulnere major.]

I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge - myth is more potent than history - dreams are more powerful read more

I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge - myth is more potent than history - dreams are more powerful than facts - hope always triumphs over experience - laughter is the cure for grief - love is stronger than death

Why wilt thou add to all the griefs I suffer
Imaginary ills, and fancy'd tortures?

Why wilt thou add to all the griefs I suffer
Imaginary ills, and fancy'd tortures?

Life is a series of experiences, each one of which makes us bigger, even though it is hard to realize read more

Life is a series of experiences, each one of which makes us bigger, even though it is hard to realize this. For the world was built to develop character, and we must learn that the setbacks and griefs which we endure help us in our marching onward.

It is foolish to tear one's hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less by baldness.

It is foolish to tear one's hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less by baldness.

To spare oneself from grief at all cost can be achieved only at the price of total detachment, which excludes read more

To spare oneself from grief at all cost can be achieved only at the price of total detachment, which excludes the ability to experience happiness

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak

My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells read more

My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul