Man Is So Constituted That He Then

If There Is A God, Whence Proceed So Many Evils? If There Is No God, Whence Cometh Any Good?

I Who Once Wrote Songs With Keen Delight Am Now By Sorrow Driven To Take Up Melancholy Measures. Wounded Muses Tell Me What I Must Write, And Elegiac Verses Bathe My Face With Real Tears. Not Even Terror Could Drive From Me These Faithful Companions Of My Long Journey. Poetry, Which Was Once The Glory Of My Happy And Flourishing Youth, Is Still My Comfort In This Misery Of My Old Age.

No Man Can Ever Be Secure Until He Has Been Forsaken By Fortune.

Man Is So Constituted That He Then Only Excels Other Things When He Knows Himself.

Music Is So Naturally United With Us That We Cannot Be Free From It - Even If We So Desired.