Be always displeased at what thou art, if thou desire to attain to what thou art not; for where thou hast pleased thyself, there thou abidest.

Child of a day, thou knowest not / The tears that overflow thy urn.

I strove with none; for none was worth my strife; Nature I loved, and, next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart

I loved him not; and yet now he is gone / I feel I am alone.

Music is God's gift to man, the only art of Heaven given to earth, the only art of earth we take to Heaven.

Goodness does not more certainly make men happy than happiness makes them good