What Shall He Fear That Does Not

Revenge Is Barren Of Itself: It Is The Dreadful Food It Feeds On; Its Delight Is Murder, And Its End Is Despair.

Live With Your Century; But Do Not Be Its Creature.

Joy, Thou Spark From Heav'n Immortal, Daughter Of Elysium! Drunk With Fire, Toward Heaven Advancing Goddess, To Thy Shrine We Come. Thy Sweet Magic Brings Together What Stern Custom Spreads Afar; All Men Become Brothers Where Thy Happy Wing-beats Are.

This Is The Curse Of An Evil Deed, That It Incites And Must Bring Forth More Evil.

What Is Life Without The Radiance Of Love?