It Is Better To Will The Good

How Quick The Old Woe Follows A Little Bliss!

What Name To Call Thee By, O Virgin Fair, I Know Not, For Thy Looks Are Not Of Earth And More Than Mortal Seems Thy Countenances

Love Is The Crowning Grace Of Humanity.

The Greater I Am, The Greater Shall Be My Efforts.

Often On Earth The Gentlest Heart Is Fain To Feed And Banquet On Another's Woe.