Opinions are made to be changed - or how is truth to be got at?
Let none think to fly the danger for soon or late love is his own avenger.
For pleasures past I do not grieve, nor perils gathering near; My greatest grief is that I leave nothing that claims a tear.
But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.
The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
The busy have no time for tears.
And, after all, what is a lie?'Tis but the truth in a masquerade.
Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.
Smiles form the channels of a future tear.