Let No One Despair, Even

No Doubt The Artist Is The Child Of His Time; But Woe To Him If He Is Also Its Disciple, Or Even Its Favorite.

Man Ever Talks, And Man Ever Dreams Of Better Days That Are Yet To Be, After Glittering Goal, That Distant Gleams, Running And Racing Untiringly. The Worldly May Grow Old And Young As It Will, But The Hope Of Man Is Improvement Still. Hope Bears Him Into Life In Her Arms, She Flutters Around The Boy's Young Bloom, The Soul Of Youth With Her Magic Warms, Nor Rests With Age In The Silent Tomb; For Ends Man His Weary Course At The Grave, There Plants He Hope O'er His Ashes To Wave.

Misery Travels Free Through The Whole World!

The History Of The World Is The World's Court Of Justice.

It Is Only Through The Morning Gate Of The Beautiful That You Can Penetrate Into The Realm Of Knowledge. That Which We Feel Here As Beauty We Shall One Day Know As Truth.