Make Us Happy And You Make Us

If Thou Tastest A Crust Of Bread, Thou Tastest All The Stars And All The Heavens.

Generations Pass While Some Tree Stands, And Old Families Last Not Three Oaks.

I Know A Mount, The Gracious Sun Perceives First When He Visits, Last, Too, When He Leaves The World; And, Vainly Favored, It Repays The Day-long Glory Of His Steadfast Gaze By No Change Of Its Large Calm Front Of Snow.

Sappho Survives, Because We Sing Her Songs; And Eschylus, Because We Read His Plays!

One May Do Whatever One Likes. In Art, The Only Thing Is, To Make Sure That One Does Like It.