As It Is So Strangely Ordained In

However Stupid A Fools Words May Be, They Are Sometimes Enough To Confound An Intelligent Man.

But There Is Nothing Enduring In The World, And Therefore Even Joy In The Second Minute Is Already Not As Acute As In The First; In The Third Minute It Becomes Still Weaker And Finally Merges Unnoticeably With The Usual Condition Of The Soul, As A Circle On The Water, Caused By The Fall Of A Pebble, Finally Merges With The Smooth Surface.

I Am Fated To Journey Hand In Hand With My Strange Heroes And To Survey The Surging Immensity Of Life, To Survey It Through The Laughter That All Can See And Through The Tears Unseen And Unknown By Anyone.

Two Turtle Doves Will Show Thee Where My Cold Ashes Lie And Sadly Murmuring Tell Thee How In Tears I Did Die

He Who Has Talent In Him Must Be Purer In Soul Than Anyone Else. Another Will Be Forgiven Much, But To Him It Will Not Be Forgiven. A Man Who Leaves The House In Bright, Festive Clothes Needs Only One Drop Of Mud Splashed From Under A Wheel, And People All Surround Him, Point Their Fingers At Him, And Talk About His Slovenliness, While The Same People Ignore Many Spots On Other Passers-by Who Are Wearing Everyday Clothes. For On Everyday Clothes The Spots Do Not Show.