The seeds of first instructions are dropp'd into the deepest furrows.

He who commits a wrong will himself inevitably see the writing on the wall, though the world may not count him guilty.

O Death, what are thou? nurse of dreamless slumbers freshening the fevered flesh to a wakefulness eternal.

Yet is beauty the pleasing trickery that cheateth half the world.

Blunted unto goodness is the heart which anger never stirreth, but that which hatred swelleth, is keen to carve out evil.

A spark is a little thing, yet it may kindle the world.

Reason refuseth its homage to a God who can be fully understood.