Better Be Courted And Jilted Than Never

Without The Smile From Partial Beauty Won, O What Were Man? - A World Without A Sun.

On Linden, When The Sun Was Low, All Bloodless Lay The Untrodden Snow, And Dark As Winter Was The Flow Of Iser, Rolling Rapidly.

For Beauty's Tears Are Lovelier Than Her Smile.

Ye Are Brothers! Ye Are Men! And We Conquer But To Save.

Triumphal Arch, That Fill'st The Sky When Storms Prepare To Part, I Ask Not Proud Philosophy To Teach Me What Thou Art.