O, There Is Naught On Earth Worth

Envy's A Coal Comes Hissing Hot From Hell.

Corruption Springs From Light: 'tis One Same Power Creates, Preserves, Destroys; Matter Whereon It Works, On E'er Self-transmutative Form, Common To Now The Living, Now The Dead.

The Long Days Are No Happier Than The Short Ones.

Write To The Mind And Heart, And Let The Ear Glean After What It Can.

True Faith Nor Biddeth Nor Abideth Form, The Bended Knee, The Eye Uplift; Is All Which Men Need Render; All Which God Can Bear. What To The Faith Are Forms? A Passing Speck, A Crow Upon The Sky.