You throw the sand against the wind and the wind blows it back again.

I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.

I have no name: I am but two days old. What shall I call thee? I happy am, Joy is my name. Sweet joy befall thee!

Some are born to sweet delight, Some are born to endless night.

Art can never exist without naked beauty displayed.

Nothing is real beyond imaginative patterns men make of reality.

I give you the end of a golden string, Only wind it into a ball, It will lead you in at Heaven's gate Built in Jerusalem's wall.