Opposition Is True Friendship.

Then My Verse I Dishonor, My Pictures Despise, My Person Degrade And My Temper Chastise; And The Pen Is My Terror, The Pencil My Shame; And My Talents I Bury, And Dead Is My Fame.

He Who Binds To Himself A Joy Does The Winged Life Destroy; But He Who Kisses The Joy As It Flies Lives In Eternity's Sun Rise.

Ah, Sunflower, Weary Of Time, Who Countest The Steps Of The Sun, Seeking After That Sweet Golden Clime Where The Traveller's Journey Is Done; Where The Youth Pined Away With Desire And The Pale Virgin Shrouded In Snow Arise From Their Graves, And Aspire Where My Sunflower Wishes To Go.

The Hours Of Folly Are Measured By The Clock; But Of Wisdom, No Clock Can Measure.

I Must Create A System, Or Be Enslav'd By Another Man's.