Ah! My Poor Brain Is Racked And

A Wife Is A Gift Bestowed Upon A Man To Reconcile Him To The Loss Of Paradise.

Time Is A Strange Thing. It Is A Whimsical Tyrant, Which In Every Century Has A Different Face For All That One Says And Does.

Some Books Seem To Have Been Written, Not To Teach Us Anything, But To Let Us Know That The Author Has Known Something.

My Inheritance How Lordly Wide And Fair; Time Is My Fair Seed-field, To Time I'm Heir.

Colors Are Light's Suffering And Joy