Fate's Arrow, When Expected, Travels Slow.

Midway Upon The Journey Of Our Life

Fame Is Not Won On Downy Plumes Nor Under Canopies; The Man Who Consumes His Days Without Obtaining It Leaves Such Mark Of Himself On Earth As Smoke In Air Or Foam On Water.

I Saw Within Its Depth How It Conceives All Things In A Single Volume Bound By Love Of Which The Universe Is The Scattered Leaves.

My Soul Tasted That Heavenly Food, Which Gives New Appetite While It Satiates.

Sta Come Torre Ferma, Che Non Crolla Giammai La Cima Per Soffiar De' Venti. Be Steadfast As A Tower That Doth Not Bend Its Stately Summit To The Tempest's Shock.