God is the perfect poet, Who in his person acts his own creations.
What joy is better than the news of friends?
Poetry, like love, is something we never truly say goodbye to.
The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate!
Tis looking downward makes one dizzy.
All service ranks the same with God,- With God, whose puppets, best and worst, Are we: there is no last nor first.