I Wait For The Morning

The World Runs On From One Folly To Another; And The Man Who, Solely From Regard To The Opinion Of Others, And Without Any Wish Or Necessity Of His Own, Toils After Gold, Honour, Or Any Other Phantom, Is No Better Than A Fool.

We Cannot Too Soon Convince Ourselves How Easily We May Be Dispensed With In The World. What Important Personages We Imagine Ourselves To Be! We Think That We Alone Are The Life Of The Circle In Which We Move; In Our Absence, We Fancy That Life, Existence, Breath Will Come To A General Pause, And, Alas, The Gap Which We Leave Is Scarcely Perceptible, So Quickly Is It Filled Again; Nay, It Is Often The Place, If Not Of Something Better, At Least For Something More Agreeable.

I Hate All Explanations; They Who Make Them Deceive Either Themselves Or The Other Party,-generally Both.

There Is No Better Deliverance From The World Than Through Art, And A Man Can Form No Surer Bond With It.

A Mind, Once Formed, Is Never Suited After, One Yet In Growth Will Ever Grateful Be. [ger., Wer Fertig Ist, Dem Ist Nichts Recht Zu Machen, Ein Werdender Wird Immer Dankbar Sein.]