Death Hath A Thousand Doors To Let

Think Not Thy Time Short In This World, Since The World Itself Is Not Long. The Created World Is But A Small Parenthesis In Eternity, And A Short Interposition, For A Time, Between Such A State Of Duration As Was Before It And May Be After It.

That Some Have Never Dreamed Is As Improbable As That Some Have Never Laughed.

We Term Sleep A Death By Which We May Be Literally Said To Die Daily; In Fine, So Like Death, I Dare Not Trust It Without My Prayers.

I Intend No Monopoly, But A Community In Learning; I Study Not For My Own Sake Only, But For Theirs That Study Not For Themselves.

We Term Sleep A Death, And Yet It Is Waking That Kills Us, And Destroys Those Spirits That Are The House Of Life.