What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.

For life, with all its yields of joy and woe Is just a chance o' the prize of learning love.

Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!

One may do whatever one likes. In art, the only thing is, to make sure that one does like it.

And inasmuch as feeling, the East's gift, Is quick and transient,- comes, and lo! is gone, While Northern thought is slow and durable.

In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity; On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools - that's vanity

The great beacon light God sets in all, the conscience of each bosom.