One Never Goes Further Than When They

The Angles Even Draw Strength From Gazing On Its Glance, Though None Its Meaning Fathom May; The World's Unwither'd Countenance Is Bright As At Creation's Day.

The Flowers Of Life Are But Visionary. How Many Pass Away And Leave No Trace Behind! How Few Yield Any Fruit,--and The Fruit Itself, How Rarely Does It Ripen! And Yet There Are Flowers Enough; And Is It Not Strange, My Friend, That We Should Suffer The Little That Does Really Ripen To Rot, Decay, And Perish Unenjoyed?

Once I Blazed Across The Sky, Leaving Trails Of Flame; I Fell To Earth, And Here I Lie - Who'll Help Me Up Again? -a Shooting Star

One Always Has Time Enough, If One Will Apply It Well.

We Can Stand Only A Certain Amount Of Unhappiness; Anything Beyond That Annihilates Us Or Passes Us By, Leaving Us Apathethetic.