The aged love what is practical while impetuous youth longs only for what is dazzling.

From thought to thought, from mountain peak to mountain. Love leads me on; for I can never still My trouble on the world's well beaten ways.

Death is a sleep that ends our dreaming. Oh, that we may be allowed to wake before death wakes us.

He loves but lightly who his love can tell.

I rejoiced in my progress, mourned my weaknesses, and commiserated the universal instability of human conduct.

Who naught suspects is easily deceived.

Alack our life, so beautiful to see, With how much ease life losest, in a day, What many years with pain and toil amassed!