As noble Art has survived noble nature, so too she marches ahead of it, fashioning and awakening by her inspiration. Before Truth sends her triumphant light into the depths of the heart, imagination catches its rays, and the peaks of humanity will be glowing when humid night still lingers in the valleys.

Not without a shudder may the human hand reach into the mysterious urn of destiny.

Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death.

The dream is short, repentance long.

The lemonade is weak, like your soul.

Man, living, feeling man, is the easy sport of the over-mastering present.

What's old collapses, times change, And new life blossoms in the ruins.