Love is the energy of life.

Time'swheelsrunsbackor stops: Potterand clayendure.

The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate!

Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, 'A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!

How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead; So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!

But there are times when patience proves at fault.

For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements' rage, the fiend voices that rave, Shall dwindle, shall blend, Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, Then a light, then thy breast, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest!