The future has several names. For the weak, it is impossible; for the fainthearted, it is unknown; but for the valiant, it is ideal. - Victor Hugo

Love is like a tree: it shoots of itself; it strikes it's roots deeply into our whole being, and frequently continues to put forth green leaves over a heart in ruins. And there is this unaccountable circumstance attending it, that the blinder the passion the more tenacious it is. Never is it stronger than when it is most unreasonable.

The most beautiful of altars, he said, is the soul of an unhappy creature consoled and thankfing God.

There is neither a foreign war nor a civil war; there is only just and unjust war.