Time Is The Subtle Thief Of Youth.

Leaves Have Their Time To Fall, And Flowers To Wither At The North - Wind's Breath, And Stars To Set; But All, Thou Hast All Seasons For Thine Own, O Death!

Freely We Serve, Because Freely We Love.

Who, As They Sung, Would Take The Prison'd Soul And Lap It In Elysium.

And The More I See Pleasures About Me, So Much More I Feel Torment Within Me.

Good, The More Communicated, More Abundant Grows.