Joy and woe are woven fine.

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

Opposition is true friendship.

He loves to sit and hear me sing, Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; Then stretches out my golden wing, And mocks my loss of liberty.

He who binds to himself a joy Does the winged life destroy; But he who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity's sun rise.

What seems to be, is, to those to whom it seems to be, and is productive of the most dreadful consequences to those to whom it seems to be, even of torments, despair, eternal death.

To the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.