Sorrow Is Brief But Joy Is Endless

When The Wine Goes In, Strange Things Come Out.

No Doubt The Artist Is The Child Of His Time; But Woe To Him If He Is Also Its Disciple, Or Even Its Favorite.

Time Is A Blooming Field: Nature Is Ever Teeming With Life: And All Is Seed, And All Is Fruit.

Song Forbids Victorious Deeds To Die.

That Which Is So Universal As Death Must Be A Benefit.