Hope smiles on the threshold of the year to come, whispering that it will be happier. — Alfred Lord Tennyson. British Poet Laureate (1809–1892)
I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.
Ah, what shall I be at fifty, should nature keep me alive, if I find the world so bitter when I am but twenty-five?
The happiness of a man in this life does not consist in the absence but in the mastery of his passions.