Our hours in love have wings; in absence, crutches.

Our hours in love have wings; in absence, crutches.

Absence, that common cure of love.

Absence, that common cure of love.

'Tis said of love that it sometimes goes, sometimes flies; runs with one, walks gravely with another; turns a third into ice, and sets a fourth in a flame: it wounds one, another it kills: like lightning it begins and ends in the same moment: it makes that fort yield at night which it besieged but in the morning; for there is no force able to resist it.

Good actions ennoble us, and we are the sons of our deeds.