What a profound significance small things assume when the woman we love conceals them from us. — Marcel Proust. French novelist, literary critic, and essayist (1871–1922) Love
Illness is the doctor to whom we pay most heed; to kindness, to knowledge, we make promise only; pain we obey.
We don't receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us or spare us.
Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.