Truth Exists For The Wise, Beauty For

Be True, And Thou Shalt Fetter Time With Everlasting Chain.

Joy, Thou Spark From Heav'n Immortal, Daughter Of Elysium! Drunk With Fire, Toward Heaven Advancing Goddess, To Thy Shrine We Come. Thy Sweet Magic Brings Together What Stern Custom Spreads Afar; All Men Become Brothers Where Thy Happy Wing-beats Are.

Sentimental Poetry Differs From Naive Poetry In That It Relates The Real State At Which The Latter Stops To Ideas And Applies Ideas To That Reality.

There Are Evil Spirits Who Suddenly Fix Their Abode In Man's Unguarded Breast, Causing Us To Commit Devilish Deeds, And Then, Hurrying Back To Their Native Hell, Leave Behind The Stings Of Remorse In The Poisoned Bosom.

He Cannot Complain Of A Hard Sentence, Who Is Made Master Of His Own Fate.