Let Your Cry Be For

Misery Is Almost Always The Result Of Thinking.

Imitate Time; It Destroys Everything Slowly; It Undermines, It Wears Away, It Detaches, It Does Not Wrench.

Thoughts There Are, That Need No Embodying, No Form, No Expression. It Is Enough To Hint At Them Vaguely; A Word, And They Are Heard And Seen.

There Is Always Some Frivolity In Excellent Minds; They Have Wings To Rise, But Also Stray.

The Evening Of A Well Spent Youth Brings It's Lamps With It.