The Painter Is, As To The Execution

O That It Might Remain Eternally Green, The Beautiful Time Of Youthful Love.

The Future Comes Slowly, The Present Flies And The Past Stands Still Forever.

Culture, Far From Giving Us Freedom, Only Develops, As It Advances, New Necessities; The Fetters Of The Physical Close More Tightly Around Us, So That The Fear Of Loss Quenches Even The Ardent Impulse Toward Improvement, And The Maxims Of Passive Obedience Are Held To Be The Highest Wisdom Of Life.

On The Mountains There Is Freedom! The World Is Perfect Everywhere, Save Where Man Comes With His Torment.

There Are Occasions When The General Belief Of The People, Even Though It Be Groundless, Works Its Effect As Sure As Truth Itself.