Out Of My Great Sorrows, I Make

Life Is All Too Wondrous Sweet, And The World Is So Beautifully Bewildered; It Is The Dream Of An Intoxicated Divinity.

The Beauteous Dragonfly's Dancing By The Waves Of The Rivulet Glancing; She Dances Here And She Dances There, The Glimmering, Glittering Flutterer Fair. Full Many A Beetle With Loud Applause Admires Her Dress Of Azure Gauze, Admires Her Body's Bright Splendour, And Also Her Figure So Slender...

Money Is The God Of Our Time, And Rothschild Is His Prophet.

Christianity Is An Idea, And As Such Is Indestructible And Immortal, Like Every Idea.

Perfumes Are The Feelings Of Flowers, And As The Human Heart, Imagining Itself Alone And Unwatched, Feels Most Deeply In The Night-time, So Seems It As If The Flowers, In Musing Modesty, Await The Mantling Eventide Ere They Give Themselves Up Wholly To Feeling...