Four seasons fill the measure of the year; there are four seasons in the minds of men.

The thought, the deadly thought of solitude.

Here lies one whose name was writ in water.

The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.

I will give you a definition of a proud man: he is a man who has neither vanity nor wisdom one filled with hatreds cannot be vain, neither can he be wise.

I always made an awkward bow.

I will clamber through the clouds and exist.