Ask me not what I have, but what I am.

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.

The fountain of love is the rose and the lily, the sun and the dove.

The beauteous eyes of the spring's fair night With comfort are downward gazing.

Sleep is good, death is better; but of course, the best thing would to have never been born at all.

The foolish race of mankind are swarming below in the night; they shriek and rage and quarrel - and all of them are right.

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.