Nature Is The Art Of

Your Fame Is As The Grass, Whose Hue Comes And Goes, And His Might Withers It By Whose Power It Sprang From The Lap Of The Earth.

He Who Know Most Grieves Most For Wasted Time.

Here Pity Only Lives When It Is Dead - Virgil

Thus You May Understand That Love Alone Is The True Seed Of Every Merit In You, And Of All Acts For Which You Must Atone.

The Only Fit Reply To A Fit Request Is Silence And The Fact.