Life Is An Empty Dream.

Any Nose May Ravage With Impunity A Rose.

A Minute's Success Pays The Failure Of Years.

It Is The Glory And Good Of Art, That Art Remains The One Way Possible Of Speaking Truth, To Mouths Like Mine At Least.

What? Was Man Made A Wheel-work To Wind Up, And Be Discharged, And Straight Wound Up Anew? No! Grown, His Growth Lasts; Taught, He Ne'er Forgets: May Learn A Thousand Things, Not Twice The Same.

How Sad And Bad And Mad It Was - But Then, How It Was Sweet