I Willingly Confess To So Great A

What Men Call Luck Is The Prerogative Of Valiant Souls, The Fealty Life Pays Its Rightful Kings.

Worshippers Of Light Ancestral Make The Present Light A Crime.

There Is No Self-delusion More Fatal Than That Which Makes The Conscience Dreamy With The Anodyne Of Lofty Sentiments, While The Life Is Groveling And Sensual

What A Man Pays For Bread And Butter Is Worth Its Market Value, And No More. What He Pays For Love's Sake Is Gold Indeed, Which Has A Lure For Angels' Eyes, And Rings Well Upon God's Touchstone.

The Victory's In Believing.