“ Joy descends gently upon us like the evening dew, and does not patter down like a hailstorm. ”
Sorrows gather around great souls as storms do around mountains; but, like them, they break the storm and purify the air of the plain beneath them.
~ Jean Paul
Music is moonlight in the gloomy night of life.
Gray hairs seem to my fancy like the soft light of the moon, silvering over the evening of life.
What makes old age so sad is not that our joys but our hopes cease.
