As Soon As I Have Begun To

I Speak With The Eternal Through The Instrument Of Nature, Through The World's History: I Read The Soul Of The Artist In His Apollo.

O That It Might Remain Eternally Green, The Beautiful Time Of Youthful Love.

Only Through Beauty's Morning-gate, Dost Thou Penetrate The Land Of Knowledge.

The Jest Loses Its Point When He Who Makes It Is The First To Laugh.

He That Is Over-cautious Will Accomplish But Very Little.