Hatred Is Partial, But Love Is Still

The Happy Do Not Believe In Miracles.

At All Times It Has Not Been The Age, But Individuals Alone, Who Have Worked For Knowledge. It Was The Age Which Put Socrates To Death By Poison, The Age Which Burnt Huss. The Ages Have Always Remained Alike.

I Do Not Now Begin, - I Still Adore Her Whom I Early Cherish'd In My Breast; Then Once Again With Prudence Dispossess'd, And To Whose Heart I'm Driven Back Once More. The Love Of Petrarch, That All-glorious Love, Was Unrequited, And, Alas, Full Sad.

The Rainbow Mirrors Human Aims And Action. Think, And More Clearly Wilt Thou Grasp It, Seeing Life Is But Light In Many-hued Reflection.

To Know Where A Thing Is We Must Have Found It.