It is sad to love and be unloved, but sadder still to be unable to love. - Maurice Maeterlinck

When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough. If we always had smiled on the one who is gone, there would be no despair in our grief; and some sweetness would cling to our tears, reminiscent of virtues and happiness. For our recollections of veritable love — which indeed is the act of virtue containing all others — call from our eyes the same sweet, tender tears as those most beautiful hours wherein memory was born.

خیام فیلسوف ایرانی چنین می گوید
از دو خال خارج نيست يا خدا قبلا ميداند كه من چه خواهم كرد و يا نميداند.اگر نميداند كه دراين صورت خدا نيست و در صورتيكه ميداند چگونه انتظار دارد كه من كاری بر خلاف دانايی او بكنم و با رعايت اين دو نكته چگونه مرا بعد از مرگ مسئول نموده و كيفر خواهد داد.

Look upon men and things with the inner eye, with its form and desire, never forgetting that the shadow they throw as they pass by, upon hillock or wall, is but the fleeting image of a mightier shadow, which, like the wing of an imperishable swan, floats over every soul that draws near to their soul. Do not believe that thoughts such as these can be mere ornaments, and without influence upon the lives of those who admit them. It is far more important that one’s life should be perceived than that it should be transformed; for no sooner has it been perceived, than it transforms itself of its own accord.