If Were Not Foolish Young, Were Foolish

A Love Grown Old Is Not The Love Once New.

The Life So Brief, The Art So Long In The Learning, The Attempt So Hard, The Conquest So Sharp, The Fearful Joy That Ever Slips Away So Quickly - By All This I Mean Love, Which So Sorely Astounds My Feeling With Its Wondrous Operation, That When I Think Upon It I Scarce Know Whether I Wake Or Sleep.

Ther Is No Newe Gyse That It Nas Old.

One Cannot Be Avenged For Every Wrong; According To The Occasion, Everyone Who Knows How, Must Use Temperance.

And So It Is In Politics, Dear Brother, Each For Himself Alone, There Is No Other.