This Hobble Of Being Alive Is Rather

Teach Me To Live, That I May Dread The Grave As Little As My Bed. Teach Me To Die.

Black Chaos Comes, And The Fettered Gods Of The Earth Say, Let There Be Light.

Let Me Enjoy The Earth No Less Because The All-enacting Light That Fashioned Forth Its Loveliness Had Other Aims Than My Delight.

Many Of Her Thoughts Were Perfect Syllogisms; Unluckily They Always Remained Thoughts. Only A Few Were Irrational Assumptions; But, Unfortunately, They Were The Ones Which Most Frequently Grew Into Deeds

Everybody Is So Talented Nowadays That The Only People I Care To Honor As Deserving Real Distinction Are Those Who Remain In Obscurity.