Believeth With The Life, The Pain Shall

Truth Is Within Ourselves.

Faultless To A Fault.

My Care Is For Myself; Myself Am Whole And Sole Reality.

As Is Your Sort Of Mind, So Is Your Sort Of Search: You Will Find What You Desire.

Sorrow, The Heart Must Bear, Sits In The Home Of Each, Conspicuous There. Many A Circumstance, At Least, Touches The Very Breast. For Those Whom Any Sent Away,--he Knows: And In The Live Man's Stead, Armor And Ashes Reach The House Of Each.