We are not all able to do all things.
The hour is ripe, and yonder lies the way.
Fortune sides with he who dares
Look with favor upon a bold beginning.
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.
Cease to think that the decrees of the gods can be changed by prayers.