The May Of Life Blooms Once And

Weep, For The Light Is Dead.

Fate Always Wins, For Our Own Heart Within Us Imperiously Furthers Its Designs.

Our Safety Is Not In Blindness, But In Facing Our Dangers.

To Rankling Poison Hast Thou Turned In Me The Milk Of Human Kindness.

Grace Is The Beauty Of Form Under The Influence Of Freedom.