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

I wept in my dreams. I dreamed you lay in the grave; I awoke, and the tears still poured down my cheeks. I wept in my dreams, I dreamed you had left me; I awoke and I went on weeping long and bitterly. I wept in my dreams, I dreamed you were still kind to me; I awoke, and still the flow of my tears streams on.

Human misery is too great for men to die without faith.

Out of my own great woe I make my little songs.

I take pride in never being rude to anyone on this earth, which contains a great number of unbearable villains who set upon you to recount their sufferings and even recite their poems.

Out of my great sorrows, I make little songs.

Christianity is an idea, and as such is indestructible and immortal, like every idea.