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— Lord Byron"Years steal fire from the mind as vigor from the limb; and life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim."
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whats here a cup closed in my true loves hand poisin i see hath been his timeless end. oh churl drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after. i will kiss thy lips some poisin doth hang on them, to help me die with a restorative. thy lips are warm. yea noise then ill be brief oh happy dagger this is thy sheath. there rust and let me die.
— William Shakespeare
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No person, possession, profession, or position ever fills the cup of a wounded, empty heart. It's an emptiness only God can fill.
— Lysa TerKeurst
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