Women hate a debt as men a gift.
To me at least was never evening yet, but seemed far beautifuller than its day.
Would you have your songs endure? Build on the human heart.
Days decrease, / And autumn grows, autumn in everything.
O world, as God has made it! All is beauty.
In this world, who can do a thing, will not; And who would do it, cannot, I perceive: Yet the will's somewhat — somewhat, too, the power — And thus we half-men struggle.