Bring me my bow of burning gold: Bring me my arrows of desire: Bring me my spear: O clouds, unfold! Bring me my chariot of fire.

But if at church they would give some ale. And a pleasant fire our souls to regale. We'd sing and we'd pray all the live long day, Nor ever once from the church to stray.

'Come hither, my boy, tell me what thou seest there?' 'A fool tangled in a religious snare.'

He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star.

Pay attention to minute particulars. Take care of the little ones. Generalization and abstraction are the plea of the hypocrite, scoundrel, and knave.

Without Unceasing Practice nothing can be done. Practice is Art. If you leave off you are lost.

Listen to the fool's reproach! It is a kingly title!