The fires of youth may die away and sink to crimson embers. . . . The high romantic dreams may vanish --- But the heart remembers.
The heart remembers everything; the buried past is there. The rapture of loves first delight; the joy and the despair. The faces and the friendships and the names of long ago --- Lie beneath a drift of years like leaves beneath the snow.
The sorrows and the happiness --- Gay June and grey Decembers. The music fades, the roses perish. . . . But the heart remembers.