The Lamp Of Genius Burns Quicker Than

O Tender Yearning, Sweet Hoping! The Golden Time Of First Love! The Eye Sees The Open Heaven, The Heart Is Intoxicated With Bliss; O That The Beautiful Time Of Young Love Could Remain Green Forever.

Individual Character Is In The Right That Is In Strict Consistence With Itself. Self-contradiction Is The Only Wrong.

Man Ever Talks, And Man Ever Dreams Of Better Days That Are Yet To Be, After Glittering Goal, That Distant Gleams, Running And Racing Untiringly. The Worldly May Grow Old And Young As It Will, But The Hope Of Man Is Improvement Still. Hope Bears Him Into Life In Her Arms, She Flutters Around The Boy's Young Bloom, The Soul Of Youth With Her Magic Warms, Nor Rests With Age In The Silent Tomb; For Ends Man His Weary Course At The Grave, There Plants He Hope O'er His Ashes To Wave.

On Dreary Night Let Lusty Sunshine Fall.

As Freely As The Firmament Embraces The World, So Mercy Must Encircle Friend And Foe. The Sun Poursforth Impartially His Beams Through All The Regions Of Infinity; Heaven Bestows The Dew Equally On Every Thirsty Plant. Whatever Is Good And Comes From On High Is Universal And Without Reserve: But In The Heart's Recesses Darkness Dwells.