Rest is sweet after strife.
They only fall, that strive to move, Or lose, that care to keep.
Art is Nature made by Man, To Man the interpreter of God.
The world is filled with folly and sin, And Love must cling, where it can, I say: For Beauty is easy enough to win; But one isn't loved every day.
Do not think that years leave us and find us the same!
There is a pleasure that is born of pain.