Nature Is The Art Of God.

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.

He Is Not Always At Ease Who Laughs.

The Mouse Had Fallen In With Evil Cats.

There, Pride, Avarice, And Envy Are The Tongues Men Know And Heed, A Babel Of Depsair

Thy Soul Is By Vile Fear Assailed, Which Oft So Overcasts A Man, That He Recoils From Noblest Resolution, Like A Beast At Some False Semblance In The Twilight Gloom.