An Honest Man You May Form Of

Love Is Only Known By Him Who Hopelessly Persists In Love.

The Moor Has Done His Work, The Moor May Go.

If We Do Not Find Anything Very Pleasant, At Least We Shall Find Something New.

Joy, Thou Spark From Heav'n Immortal, Daughter Of Elysium! Drunk With Fire, Toward Heaven Advancing Goddess, To Thy Shrine We Come. Thy Sweet Magic Brings Together What Stern Custom Spreads Afar; All Men Become Brothers Where Thy Happy Wing-beats Are.

There Is No Such Thing As Chance; And What Seem To Us Merest Accident Springs From The Deepest Source Of Destiny.