Children of the future age Reading this indignant page Know that in a former time Love, sweet love, was thought a crime
'Come hither, my boy, tell me what thou seest there?' 'A fool tangled in a religious snare.'
Excessive sorrow laughs. Excessive joy weeps.
The hours of folly are measured by the clock; but of wisdom, no clock can measure.
The crow wished everything was black, the Owl, that everything was white.
Drive your cart and plow over the bones of the dead.