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Those who weep recover more quickly than those who smile.

Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.

Many who seem to be struggling with adversity are happy; many, amid great affluence, are utterly miserable.

I don't think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains.

There is no greater sorrow than to recall happiness in times of misery.

Some pass their days as though suffering a deep sadness they cannot name. Others are unhappy because life didn't turn out the way they thought it would.

The keenest sorrow is to recognize ourselves as the sole cause of all our adversities.

But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope.

I know not why there is such a melancholy feeling attached to the remembrance of past happiness, except that we fear that the future can have nothing so bright as the past.