Weep, For The Light Is Dead.

Sorrow Is Brief But Joy Is Endless

Man Is An Imitative Creature.

Wouldst Thou Wisely, And With Pleasure, Pass The Days Of Life's Short Measure, From The Slow One Counsel Take, But A Tool Of Him Ne'er Make; Ne'er As Friend The Swift One Know, Nor The Constant One As Foe.

Seraphs Share With Thee Knowledge; But Art, O Man, Is Thine Alone!

The Future Comes Slowly, The Present Flies And The Past Stands Still Forever.