Or Hast Thou Known The World So

With How Much Ease Believe We What We Wish!

What I Have Left Is From My Native Spring; I've Still A Heart That Swells, In Scorn Of Fate, And Lifts Me To My Banks.

A Man Is To Be Cheated Into Passion, But To Be Reasoned Into Truth.

I Strongly Wish For What I Faintly Hope; Like The Daydreams Of Melancholy Men, I Think And Think In Things Impossible, Yet Love To Wander In That Golden Maze.

He Who Trusts A Secret To His Servant Makes His Own Man His Master.