But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence, the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.
The lapse of ages changes all things - time, language, the earth, the bounds of the sea, the stars of the sky, and every thing "about around and underneath" man, except man himself.
Maidens like moths are ever caught by glare, And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.
Absence - that common cure of love.
For truth is always strange, stranger than fiction.
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To see what is in front of one's nose needs a constant struggle.