O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors: The north is thine; there hast thou build thy dark, Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs, Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.

Truth can never be told so as to be understood and not be believed.

Lives in eternity's sun rise.

For everything exists and not one sigh nor smile nor tear, one hair nor particle of dust, not one can pass away.

Praises reap not! Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not!

Drive your cart and plow over the bones of the dead.

Art degraded, Imagination denied.