Never a tear bedims the eye that time and patience will not dry. Bret Harte on patience
Never a lip is curved with pain that can't be kissed into smiles again. Bret Harte on smile
And I hear from the outgoing ship in the bay The song of the sailors in glee: So I think of the luminous footprints that bore The comfort o'er dark Galilee, And wait for the signal to go to the shore, To the ship that is waiting for me. Bret Harte on death