Every heart has its secret sorrows which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad

Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions

In this world a man must either be anvil or hammer.

The holiest of all holidays are those Kept by ourselves in silence and apart, The secret anniversaries of the heart... -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining; Behind the clouds the sun is shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.