Vice, like virtue, Grows in small steps, and no true innocence Can ever fall at once to deepest guilt.
He who has far to ride spares his horse.
Honor, without money, is a mere malady.
None love, but they who wish to love.
When will the veil be lifted that casts so black a night over the universe? God of Israel, lift at last the gloom: For how long will you be hidden?
Sun, I come to see you for the last time.