'Tis an awkward thing to play with souls.

You call for faith: I show you doubt, to prove that faith exists. The more of doubt, the stronger faith, I say, If faith o'ercomes doubt.

Of power does Man possess no particle: Of knowledge-just so much as show that still It ends in ignorance on every side.

Fail I alone, in words and deeds? Why, all men strive and who succeeds?

In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity; On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools - that's vanity

There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall live as before; The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound; What was good shall be good, with for evil so much good more; On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect round.

The devil, that old stager, who leads downward, perhaps, but fiddles all the way!