The Dawn Is Not Distant,

Who Dares To Say That He Alone Has Found The Truth?

In Old Age Our Bodies Are Worn-out Instruments, On Which The Soul Tries In Vain To Play The Melodies Of Youth. But Because The Instrument Has Lost Its Strings, Or Is Out Of Tune, It Does Not Follow That The Musician Has Lost His Skill.

It Is Autumn; Not Without But Within Me Is The Cold. Youth And Spring Are All About; It Is I That Have Grown Old.

My Own Thoughts Are My Companions.

Ambition Is So Powerful A Passion In The Human Breast, That However High We Reach We Are Never Satisfied.