Is there not glory enough in living the days given to us? You should know there is adventure in simply being among those we love and the things we love, and beauty, too.

You are beautiful because of your possessions.

What I know is that if you do work that you love, and the work fulfills you, the rest will come.

Love can never grow old. Locks may lose their brown and gold. Cheeks may fade and hollow grow. But the hearts that love will know, never winter's frost and chill, summer's warmth is in them still.

Whom we love best, to them we can say least.

A beautiful thing is never perfect.