Into This Wild Abyss, The Womb Of

Such Sober Certainty Of Waking Bliss.

Fame Is The Spur That The Clear Spirit Doth Raise. That Last Infirmity Of Noble Mind. To Scorn Delights, And Live Laborious Days.

All Hope Is Lost Of My Reception Into Grace; What Worse? For Where No Hope Is Left, Is Left No Fear.

Among Unequals What Society Can Sort, What Harmony, Or True Delight?

Athens, The Eye Of Greece, Mother Of Arts And Eloquence.