I desire to leave to the men that come after me a remembrance of me in good works.

Food over flame burns, food over heat cooks

For man is man and master of his fate.

Ah, why should life all labor be?

The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist.

Time [is] flowing in the middle of the night.

All things have rest: why should we toil alone, We only toil, who are the first of things.