I hold that a man should strive to the uttermost for his life's set prize.
The best way to excape his ire Is, not to seem too happy.
Lose who may-I still can say, Those who win heaven, blest are they!
Art remains the one way possible of speaking truth.
I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.
The lie was dead And damned, and truth stood up instead.