A Silent Mouth Is Sweet To Hear.

Nothing Can Be Done Except Little By Little.

We Are All Born Marked For Evil.

To The Solemn Graves, Near A Lonely Cemetery, My Heart Like A Muffled Drum Is Beating Funeral Marches.

Finer Than Any Sand Are Dusts Of Gold That Gleam, Vague Starpoints, In The Mystic Iris Of Their Eyes.

To Be A Great Man And A Saint To Oneself, That's The Only Important Thing.