The Joke Loses Everything When The Joker

It Is Not Flesh And Blood, But Heart Which Makes Us Fathers And Sons.

What Else Is Chance But The Rude Stone Which Receives Its Life From The Sculptor's Hand? Providence Gives Us Chance, And Man Must Mould It To His Own Designs.

There Are Evil Spirits Who Suddenly Fix Their Abode In Man's Unguarded Breast, Causing Us To Commit Devilish Deeds, And Then, Hurrying Back To Their Native Hell, Leave Behind The Stings Of Remorse In The Poisoned Bosom.

I Feel That I Am A Man Of Destiny.

On Dreary Night Let Lusty Sunshine Fall.