Evil Then Results From Imperfection.

Music Lives Within Thy Lips Like A Nightingale In Roses.

We Live In Deeds, Not Years; In Thoughts, Not Breaths; In Feelings, Not In Figures On A Dial.

Envy's A Coal Comes Hissing Hot From Hell.

If All Were Rich, Gold Would Be Penniless.

Youth Might Be Wise; We Suffer Less From Pains Than Pleasures.