No true love there can be without Its dread penalty--jealousy.

Words, however, are things.

Alas! must it ever be so? Do we stand in our own light, wherever we go, And fight our own shadows forever?

Art is Nature made by Man, To Man the interpreter of God.

There is nothing certain in a man's life but that he must lose it.

The man who seeks one thing in life and but one, May hope to achieve it before life is done; But he who seeks all things, wherever he goes, Only reaps from the hopes which around him he sows, A harvest of barren regrets.

Love thou the rose, yet leave it on its stem.