Nothing Is Hopeless; We Must Hope For

Alas, How Right The Ancient Saying Is: We, Who Are Old, Are Nothing Else But Noise And Shape. Like Mimicries Of Dreams We Go, And Have No Wits, Although We Think Us Wise.

To Generous Souls Every Task Is Noble.

Silence And Chaste Reserve Is Woman's Genuine Praise, And To Remain Quiet Within The House.

When Love Is In Excess, It Brings A Man No Honor, No Worthiness.

Time Will Explain It All. He Is A Talker, And Needs No Questioning Before He Speaks.