I have crushed the cup of youth like a rose between my fingers but its nectar never warmed my weary heart.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
It warms my heart more than anything when somebody comes up to me and says, 'You inspired me to do this.'
Since my earliest childhood a barb of sorrow has lodged in my heart. As long as it stays I am ironic if it is pulled out I shall die.
What though youth gave love and roses, Age still leaves us friends and wine.
'Tis now the summer of your youth: time has not cropped the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them.
I have an enormous fondness for delicious food. It's very comforting.
My heart is like a singing bird.
My heart is as pure as the driven slush.
While therefore your tears flow, let a due proportion be tears of joy. Yet take the bitter cup with both hands and sit down to your repast. You will soon learn a secret: that there is sweetness at the bottom.
I have reached out my hand, I have plucked the fruits of the Gospel, I have eaten of them, and they are sweet, yea, above all that is sweet.
Sweet is the memory of distant friends! Like the mellow rays of the departing sun, it falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart.