God Will Forgive Me. It's

You Should Only Attempt To Borrow From Those Who Have But Few Of This World's Goods, As Their Chests Are Not Of Iron, And They Are, Besides, Anxious To Appear Wealthier Than They Really Are.

Out Of My Great Sorrows, I Make Little Songs.

Our Sweetest Hopes Rise Blooming. And Then Again Are Gone, They Bloom And Fade Alternate, And So It Goes Rolling On. I Know It, And It Troubles My Life, My Love, My Rest, My Heart Is Wise And Witty, And It Bleeds Within My Breast.

The Artist Is The Child In The Popular Fable, Every One Of Whose Tears Was A Pearl.

I Consider It A Degradation And A Stain On My Honor To Submit To Baptism In Order To Qualify Myself For State Employment In Prussia.