Joy Surfeited Turns To Sorrow.

For One To Grasp, Whatever Be His Object, Sov'reign Power ... Is An Act Of Perilous Presumption.

Necessity Inspires The Fatal Thought.

For 'tis Impossible Hate To Return With Love.

Where There Are Laws, He Who Has Not Broken Them Need Not Tremble.

There Is A Silence, The Child Of Love, Which Expresses Everything, And Proclaims More Loudly Than The Tongue Is Able To Do; There Are Movements That Are Involuntary Proofs Of What The Soul Feels.