When the measured dance of the hours brings back the happy smile of spring, the buried dead is born again in the life-glance of the sun. The germs which perished to the eye within the cold breast of the earth spring up with joy in the bright realm of day.

The strong man is strongest when alone.

Many a smiling face hides a mourning heart; but grief alone teaches us what we are.

I feel an army in my fist.

Great souls suffer in silence.

When the gods were more manlike, Men were more godlike.

Weep, for the light is dead.