As Leaves On The Trees, Such Is

I Too Shall Lie In The Dust When I Am Dead, But Now Let Me Win Noble Renown.

There Is Satiety In All Things, In Sleep, And Love-making, In The Loveliness Of Singing And The Innocent Dance.

But He Whose Inborn Worth His Acts Commend, Of Gentle Soul, To Human Race A Friend.

Once You Go Vatican, You Never Go Back Again.

A Generous Friendship No Cold Medium Knows, Burns With One Love, With One Resentment Glows; One Should Our Interests And Our Passions Be, My Friend Must Hate The Man That Injures Me.