But it is possible, it is possible: the old grief, by a great mystery of human life, gradually passes into quiet, tender joy; instead of young, ebullient blood comes a mild, serene old age: I bless the sun's rising each day and my heart sings to it as before, but now I love its setting even more, its long slanting rays, and with them quiet, mild, tender memories, dear images from the whole of a long and blessed life--and over all is God's truth, moving, reconciling, all-forgiving!
Fyodor DostoevskyAbout author
- Author's profession: Novelist, Writer
- Nationality: russian
- Born: November 11, 1821
- Died: February 9, 1881
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To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates. From it's own wreck the thing it contemplates; Neither to change, not falter, nor repent; This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be. Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free; This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory
Percy Bysshe Shelley