Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youths sweet-scented Manuscript should close!

In monasteries, seminaries, retreats and synagogues, they fear hell and seek paradise. Those who know the mysteries of God never let that seed be planted in their souls.

If I don't enjoy myself now, when shall I?

Drink! For you know not whence you came nor why.

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly-and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.

Yes, the first morning of creation wrote what the last dawn of reckoning shall read.