I Know And Love The Good, Yet,

Virtue Is Health, Vice Is Sickness.

Continued Work And Application Form My Soul's Nourishment. So Soon As I Commenced To Rest And Relax I Should Cease To Live.

I Freeze And Burn, Love Is Bitter And Sweet, My Sighs Are Tempests And My Tears Are Floods, I Am In Ecstasy And Agony, I Am Possessed By Memories Of Her And I Am In Exile From Myself.

Man Has Not A Greater Enemy Than Himself.

I Would Have Preferred To Have Been Born In Any Other Time Than Our Own.