All My Laurels You Have

My Heart Always Timidly Hides Itself Behind My Mind. I Set Out To Bring Down Stars From The Sky, Then, For Fear Of Ridicule, I Stop And Pick Little Flowers Of Eloquence.

Your Name Hangs In My Heart Like A Bell's Tongue.

I Am What I Am Because Early In Life I Decided That I Would Please At Least Myself In All Things.

I Sing, Not To Hear The Echo Repeat, A Shade Fainter, My Song! I Think Of Light And Not Of Glory! Singing Is My Fashion Of Waging War And Bearing Witness. And If My Song Is The Proudest Of Songs, It Is That I Sing Clearly To Make The Day Rise Clear!

A Bird Who Can Gobble Is Qualified To Teach Crowing.