Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.
The busy have no time for tears.
Sorrow preys upon Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it From its sad visions of the other world Than calling it at moments back to this. The busy have no time for tears.
Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime!
Grief should be the instructor of the wise; Sorrow is Knowledge.
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