Licence My Roving Hands, And Let Them

All Whom War, Dearth, Age, Agues, Tyrannies, Despair, Law, Chance, Hath Slain.

Poor Intricated Soul! Riddling, Perplexed, Labyrinthical Soul!

As Peace Is Of All Goodness, So War Is An Emblem, A Hieroglyphic, Of All Misery.

As He That Fears God Fears Nothing Else, So He That Sees God Sees Everything Else.

All Mankind Is One Volume. When One Man Dies, A Chapter Is Not Torn Out Of The Book, But Translated Into A Better Language. And Every Chapter Must Be Translated. God Employs Several Translators; Some Pieces Are Translated By Age, Some By Sickness, Some By War, Some By Justice. But God's Hand Shall Bind Up All Our Scattered Leaves Again For That Library Where Every Book Shall Live Open To One Another