Pain Is Short, And Joy Is Eternal.

Great Souls Endure In Silence.

The Dignity Of Man Into Your Hands Is Given; Oh, Keep It Well, With You It Sinks Or Lifts Itself To Heaven.

Most Gladly Would I Give The Blood-stained Laurel For The First Violet Which March Brings Us, The Fragrant Pledge Of The New-fledged Year.

To One, Science Is An Exalted Goddess; To Another It Is A Cow Which Provides Him With Butter.

The Lemonade Is Weak, Like Your Soul.