The Miserable's Name Is Man;

Here We Stop. Upon The Threshold Of Wedding Nights Stands An Angel Smiling, His Finger On His Lip.

The Beautiful Has But One Type, The Ugly Has A Thousand.

Love Is The Only Future God Offers.

What's Our Baggage? Only Vows, Happiness, And All Our Care, And The Flower That Sweetly Shows Nestling Lightly In Your Hair.

For, To Make Deserts, God, Who Rules Mankind, Begins With Kings, And Ends The Work By Wind.