A word spoken is a terrible thing when it suddenly utters what the heart has long allowed. - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

A mans manners are a mirror in which he shows his portrait.

Wild dreams torment me as I lie. And though a god lives in my heart, though all my power waken at his word, though he can move my every inmost part - yet nothing in the outer world is stirred. thus by existence tortured and oppressed I crave for death, I long for rest.

Of old the sacred Koran did they cite,
They named the verse and chapter ever blest,
And each good Mussulman, as was but right,
Reverenced, and felt his conscience was at rest.
The modern Dervish nothing better knows,
But prates of old and new with endless zest;
Each day our most admired disorder grows.
O sacred Koran! O eternal rest!