To the last moment of his breath On hope the wretch relies; And e'en the pang preceding death Bids expectation rise.

O Memory! thou fond deceiver.

Hope, like the gleaming taper's light, Adorns and cheers our way; And still, as darker grows the night, Emits a brighter ray.

That strain once more; it bids remembrance rise.

Life cannot be destroyed for good, neither ... can history be brought entirely to a halt. A secret streamlet trickles on beneath the heavy lid of inertia and p…

Death, go somewhere, get lost! I'm not done as yet - Joy still flows from the amphora of colors into my cupped hands.

I hope it is true that a man can die and yet not only live in others but give them life, and not only life but that great consciousness of life.