The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
Fear not for the future, weep not for the past.
Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory.
The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.
Twin-sister of Religion, Selfishness.
