When Everything Is Finished, The Mornings Are

Man, When He Does Not Grieve, Hardly Exists.

Man, When He Is Merely What He Seems To Be, Is Almost Nothing.

Everything That I Bear Within Me Bound, Is To Be Found Somewhere Else Free.

My Father, When He Went, Made My Childhood A Gift Of A Half A Century.

I Believe That The Soul Consists Of Its Sufferings. For The Soul That Cures Its Own Sufferings Dies.