And Don't Consult Anyone's Opinions But Your

Check Disease In Its Approach.

Quantum Est In Rebus Inane! How Much Folly There Is In Human Affairs.

Out Of Nothing Can Come, And Nothing Can Become Nothing.

Lives There The Man With Soul So Dead As To Disown The Wish To Merit The People's Applause, And Having Uttered Words Worthy To Be Kept In Cedar Oil To Latest Times, To Leave Behind Him Rhymes That Dread Neither Herrings Nor Frankincense.

Please Not Thyself The Flattering Crowd To Hear; 'tis Fulsome Stuff, To Please Thy Itching Ear. Survey Thy Soul, Not What Thou Does Appear, But What Thou Art.