Any Nose May Ravage With Impunity A

Rejoice That Man Is Hurled, From Change To Change Unceasingly, His Soul's Wings Never Furled!

Sappho Survives, Because We Sing Her Songs; And Eschylus, Because We Read His Plays!

In God's Good Time, Which Does Not Always Fall On Saturday When The World Looks For Wages.

Who Hears Music Feels His Solitude Peopled At Once.

Things Are Where Things Are, And, As Fate Has Willed, So Shall They Be Fulfilled.