Sorrow is a fruit. God does not make it grow on limbs too weak to bear it.

The wise man does not grow old, but ripens.

He had, they said, tasted in succession all the apples of the tree of knowledge, and, whether from hunger or disgust, had ended by tasting the forbidden fruit.

Those who do not weep, do not see.

Melancholy is the happiness of being sad.

A tree that does not blossom, will bear no fruit