Conscience, that boon companion who sets a man free under the strong breastplate of innocence, that bids him on and fear not.

He loves but little who can say and count in words, how much he loves.

This sorrow weighs upon the melancholy souls of those who lived without infamy or praise.

I love to doubt as well as know.

But if, as morning rises, dreams are true.

I found myself within a forest dark.

Mankind is at its best when it is most free.