Strideth over all mountains, and laugheth at all tragedies
Pardon me, my friends, I have ventured to paint my happiness on the wall.
To produce music is also in a sense to produce children.
What does not destroy me, makes me stronger.
Alas, where is there still a sea in which one could drown: thus our lament resounds – across shallow swamps.
When the gratitude that many owe to one discards all modesty, then there is fame.