As poetry is the harmony of words, so music is that of notes.
Love is a child that talks in broken language, yet then he speaks most plain.
How easy 'tis, when Destiny proves kind, With full-spread sails to run before the wind!
None but the brave deserve the fair.
The good we have enjoyed from Heaven's free will, and shall we murmur to endure the ill?
God never made his work for man to mend.