Love conquers all; therefore, let us submit to love.
Each person, makes their own terrible passion their God.
None but himself can be his parallel.
The only safety for the conquered is to expect no safety.
We may be masters of our every lot By bearing 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.