With Few Words I Shall Make Thee

Perchance That I Might Learn What Pity Is, That I Might Laugh At Erring Men No More.

I Give My Soul To God, My Body To The Earth, And My Worldly Possessions To My Nearest Of Kin, Charging Them To Remember The Sufferings Of Jesus Christ.

If It Be True That Any Beautiful Thing Raises The Pure And Just Desire Of Man From Earth To God, The Eternal Fount Of All, Such I Believe My Love.

The Mind, The Soul, Becomes Ennobled By The Endeavour To Create Something Perfect, For God Is Perfection, And Whoever Strives After Perfection Is Striving For Something Devine.

No One Has Mastery, Before He Is At The End, Of His Art And His Life.