O God, How Lovely Still Is Life!

Only The Soldier Is A Free Man, Because He Can Look Death In The Face.

Measure Not By The Scale Of Perfection The Meager Product Of Reality.

Appearance Should Never Attain Reality, And If Nature Conquers, Then Must Art Retire.

The Empire Of Saturnus Is Gone By; Lord Of The Secret Birth Of Things Is He; Within The Lap Of Earth, And In The Depths Of The Imagination Dominates; And His Are All Things That Eschew The Light. The Time Is O'er Of Brooding And Contrivance, For Jupiter, The Lustrous, Lordeth Now, And The Dark Work, Complete Of Preparation, He Draws By Force Into The Realm Of Light. Now Must We Hasten On To Action, Ere The Scheme, And Most Auspicious Positure Parts O'er My Head, And Takes Once More Its Flight, For The Heavens Journey Still, And Adjourn Not.

Only Those Who Have The Patience To Do Simple Things Perfectly Will Acquire The Skill To Do Difficult Things Easily.