Like A Dart The Present Glances, Silent

Whatever Lives, Lives To Die In Sorrow. We Engage Our Hearts, And Grasp After The Things Of This World, Only To Undergo The Pang Of Losing Them.

Full Of Wisdom Are The Ordinations Of Fate.

It Is Not The Mere Station Of Life That Stamps The Value On Us, But The Manner In Which We Act Our Part.

Most Gladly Would I Give The Blood-stained Laurel For The First Violet Which March Brings Us, The Fragrant Pledge Of The New-fledged Year.

Disappointments Are To The Soul What A Thunderstorm Is To The Air.