Gem Of All Joy, Jasper Of Jocundity.

Timor Mortis Conturbat Me. The Fear Of Death Disturbs Me.

Neither Our Vices Nor Our Virtues Further The Poem.

To God Be Humble, To Thy Friend Be Kind, And With Thy Neighbors Gladly Lend And Borrow; His Chance Tonight, It Maybe Thine Tomorrow.

All Love Is Lost But Upon God Alone.

Your Law May Be Perfect, Your Knowledge Of Human Affairs May Be Such As To Enable You To Apply It With Wisdom And Skill, And Yet Without Individual Acquaintance With Men, Their Haunts And Habits, The Pursuit Of The Profession Becomes Difficult, Slow, And Expensive.