Till The Future Dares Forget The Past,

The Pleasure That Is In Sorrow Is Sweeter Than The Pleasure Of Pleasure Itself.

Nothing Wilts Faster Than Laurels That Have Been Rested Upon.

See The Mountains Kiss High Heaven And The Waves Clasp One Another; No Sister-flower Would Be Forgiven If It Disdained Its Brother; And The Sunlight Clasps The Earth, And The Moonbeams Kiss The Sea - What Is All This Sweet Work Worth If Thou Kiss Not Me?

The Howl Of Self-interest Is Loud ... But The Heart Is Black Which Throbs Solely To Its Note.

I Have Drunken Deep Of Joy.