There are three lessons I would write, — — Friedrich Schiller

"O who knows what slumbers in the background of the times?"

"A moment lived in paradise Is not atoned for too dearly by death."

"Joy, in Natures wide dominion, Mightiest cause of all is found; And tis joy that moves the pinion, When the wheel of time goes round"

"Bow before Him, all creation! Mortals, own the God of love! Seek Him high the stars above,— Yonder is His habitation!"

"Joy from truths own glass of fire Sweetly on the searcher smiles; Lest on virtues steeps he tire, Joy the tedious path beguiles. High on faiths bright hill before us, See her banner proudly wave! Joy, too, swells the angels chorus,— Bursts the bondage of the grave!"

"Folly, thou conquerest, and I must yield! Against stupidity the very gods Themselves contend in vain. Exalted reason, Resplendent daughter of the head divine, Wise foundress of the system of the world, Guide of the stars, who art thou then if thou, Bound to the tail of follys uncurbed steed, Must, vainly shrieking with the drunken crowd, Eyes open, plunge down headlong in the abyss. Accursed, who striveth after noble ends, And with deliberate wisdom forms his plans! To the fool-king belongs the world."

"The wound is the place where the Light enters you."

"yes is a pleasant country... love is a deeper season than reason"

"true lovers in each happening of their hearts live longer than all which and every who"

"What concerns me fundamentaly is a meteoric burlesk melodrama, born of the immemorial adage love will find a way."

"Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flower Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God! God! sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladsome voice! Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds! And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God!"

"Unchanged within, to see all changed without, Is a blank lot and hard to bear, no doubt. Yet why at others Wanings shouldst thou fret? Then only mightst thou feel a just regret, Hadst thou withheld thy love or hid thy light In selfish forethought of neglect and slight."