Fate's Arrow, When Expected, Travels Slow.

All Hope Abandon, Ye Who Enter Here!

Still Desiring, We Live Without Hope.

As Little Flowers, Which The Chill Of Night Has Bent And Huddled, When The White Sun Strikes, Grow Straight And Open Fully On Their Stems, So Did I, Too, With My Exhausted Force.

But If, As Morning Rises, Dreams Are True.

Follow Your Path, And Let The People Talk.