Madam Life's a piece in bloom Death goes dogging everywhere: she's the tenant of the room, he's the ruffian on the stair.

Life - life - let there be life!

A late lark twitters from the quiet skies.

Into the winter's gray delight, Into the summer's golden dream, Holy and high and impartial, Death, the mother of Life, Mingles all men for ever.

Pointed criticism, if accurate, often gives the artist an inner sense of relief. The criticism that damages is that which disparages, dismisses, ridicules, or condemns.

Men may scoff, and men may pray, But they pay Every pleasure with a pain.

It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll; I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.