Time Is Round, And It

Fools, Art Is A Heavy Task, More Heavy Than Gold Crowns; It's Far More Difficult To Match Firm Words Than Armies, They're Disciplined Troops, Unconquered, To Be Placed In Rhythm, The Mind's Most Mighty Foe, And Not Disperse In Air. I'd Give, Believe Me, A Whole Land For One Good Song, For I Know Well That Only Words, That Words Alone, Like The High Mountains, Have No Fear Of Age Or Death.

God Changes His Appearance Every Second. Blessed Is The Man Who Can Recognize Him In All His Disguises.

The More Devils We Have Within Us, The More Chance We Have To Form Angels.

The Highest Point A Man Can Attain Is Not Knowledge, Or Virtue, Or Goodness, Or Victory, But Something Even Greater, More Heroic And More Despairing: Sacred Awe!

Good Lord, How Can The Rich Bear To Die?