Talk Not Of Wasted Affection - Affection

Oh, How Beautiful Is The Summer Night, Which Is Not Night, But A Sunless, Yet Unclouded, Day, Descending Upon Earth With Dews And Shadows And Refreshing Coolness! How Beautiful The Long Mild Twilight, Which, Like A Silver Clasp, Unites Today With Yesterday!

What Else Remains For Me? Youth, Hope And Love; To Build A New Life On A Ruined Life.

We Waste Our Best Years In Distilling The Sweetest Flowers Of Life Into Potions Which, After All, Do Not Immortalize, But Only Intoxicate.

In Youth All Doors Open Outward; In Old Age All Open Inward.

Even Cities Have Their Graves!