Every Woman Is The Gift Of A

I Am No Longer A Divine Biped. I Am No Longer The Freest German After Goethe, As Ruge Named Me In Healthier Days. I Am No Longer The Great Hero No. 2, Who Was Compared With The Grape-crowned Dionysius, Whilst My Colleague No. 1 Enjoyed The Title Of A Grand Ducal Weimarian Jupiter. I Am No Longer A Joyous, Somewhat Corpulent Hellenist, Laughing Cheerfully Down Upon The Melancholy Nazarenes. I Am Now A Poor Fatally-ill Jew, An Emaciated Picture Of Woe, An Unhappy Man.

Laughter Is Wholesome. God Is Not So Dull As Some People Make Out. Did Not He Make The Kitten To Chase Its Tail.

Oh Fair, Oh Sweet And Holy As Dew At Morning Tide, I Gaze On Thee, And Yearnings, Sad In My Bosom Hide.

And Once Again We Plighted Our Troth, And Titter'd, Caress'd, Kiss'd So Dearly.

Wherever Books Are Burned, Human Beings Are Destined To Be Burned Too.