Infinite Riches In A Little Room.

It Lies Not In Our Power To Love Or Hate, For Will In Us Is Overruled By Fate.

Above Our Life We Love A Steadfast Friend.

Who Hateth Me But For My Happiness? Or Who Is Honored Now But For His Wealth? Rather Had I, A Jew, Be Hated Thus, Than Pitied In A Christian Poverty.

Religion! O Diabole! Fie, I Am Asham'd, However That I Seem, To Think A Word Of Such Simple Sound, Of Such Great Matter Should Be Made The Ground.

O, Thou Art Fairer Than The Evening Air Clad In The Beauty Of A Thousand Stars.