Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.

All sense of hearing and of sight enfold in the serene delight and quietude of sleep.

We waste our best years in distilling the sweetest flowers of life into potions which, after all, do not immortalize, but only intoxicate.

He that respects himself is safe from others. He wears a coat of mail that none can pierce.

Fair words gladden so many a heart.

Man is unjust, but God is just; and finally justice triumphs.

From labor there shall come forth rest.