The Zeal Of Friends It Is That

There Is No Such Thing As Chance; And What Seem To Us Merest Accident Springs From The Deepest Source Of Destiny.

Rarely Do We Arrive At The Summit Of Truth Without Running Into Extremes; We Have Frequently To Exhaust The Part Of Error, And Even Of Folly, Before We Work Our Way Up To The Noble Goal Of Tranquil Wisdom.

In The Ardor Of Pursuit Men Soon Forget The Goal From Which They Start.

There Are Evil Spirits Who Suddenly Fix Their Abode In Man's Unguarded Breast, Causing Us To Commit Devilish Deeds, And Then, Hurrying Back To Their Native Hell, Leave Behind The Stings Of Remorse In The Poisoned Bosom.

O That It Might Remain Eternally Green, The Beautiful Time Of Youthful Love.