Oh, Time Betrays Us. Time Is The

This Alone Is To Be Feared - The Closed Mind, The Sleeping Imagination, The Death Of The Spirit. The Death Of The Body Is To That, I Think, A Little Thing.

You Are Quite, Quite Wrong If You Think That ... I Find Your Happiness Painful. What Matters Is That Happiness - The Golden Day - Should Exist In The World, Not Much To Whom It Comes. For All Of Us It Is So Transitory A Thing, How Could One Not Draw Joy From Its Arrival?

If We Haven't A Grouch Against Fortune, We Seem Unable To Avoid One Against Ourselves.

Oh, Time Betrays Us. Time Is The Great Enemy.

Youth Knows No Remedy For Grief But Death.