For love is like a tree; it grows of itself; it send its roots deep into our being, and often continues to grow green over a heart in ruins. - Victor Hugo

Though we chisel away as best we can at the mysterious block from which our life is made, the black vein of destiny continually reappears.

You can give without loving, but you can never love without giving. The great acts of love are done by those who are habitually performing small acts of kindness. We pardon to the extent that we love. Love is knowing that even when you are alone, you will never be lonely again. & great happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved. Loved for ourselves. & even loved in spite of ourselves.

There comes an hour when protest no longer suffices; after philosophy there must be action; the strong hand finishes what the idea has sketched.