In The Ardor Of Pursuit Men Soon

The Storm Is Master. Man, As A Ball, Is Tossed Twixt Winds And Billows.

Every True Genius Is Bound To Be Naive.

Deep Meaning Lies Often In Childish Play.

Even Now, Nature Is The Only Flame, On Which The Poetic Spirit Feeds; From It Alone It Draws All Its Power, To It Alone It Speaks Even In The Artificial, In The Man Engaged In Culture.

Men Show No Mercy And Expect No Mercy, When Honor Calls, Or When They Fight For Their Idols Or Their Gods.