The Bitter Past, More Welcome Is The

Good God, The Souls Of All My Tribe Defend From Jealousy!

Gold--what Can It Not Do, And Undo?

Age, I Do Abhor Thee, Youth, I Do Adore Thee.

Lives Like A Drunken Sailor On A Mast, Ready With Every Nod To Tumble Down Into The Fatal Bowels Of The Deep.

Is Love A Tender Thing? It Is Too Rough, Too Rude, Too Boisterous, And It Pricks Like Thorn.