Music is a strange thing. I would almost say it is a miracle. For it stands halfway between thought and phenomenon, between spirit and matter.

Every age thinks its battle the most important of all.

Write . . . write . . . pencil . . . paper.

The dragon-fly is dancing, - Is on the water glancing, She flits about with nimble wing, The flickering, fluttering, restless thing. Besotted chafers all admire Her light-blue, gauze-like, neat attire; They laud her blue complexion, And think her shape perfection.

The cloudlets are lazily sailing O'er the blue Atlantic sea; And mid the twilight there hovers A shadowy figure o'er me.

The years keep coming and going, Men will arise & depart; Only one thing is immortal: The love that is in my heart.

Ordinarily he was insane, but he had lucid moments when he was merely stupid