Passion and strife bow down the mind
Time meanwhile is flying, flying beyond recall.
Trust one who has gone through it.
I will be gone from here and sing my songs/ In the forest wilderness where the wild beasts are,/ And carve in letters on the little trees/ The story of my love, and as the trees/ Will grow letters too will grow, to cry/ In a louder voice the story of my love.
Want of pluck shows want of blood
Love conquers all; let us surrender to Love.