Fear Of Death Is Worse Than Dying.

Ah, To That Far Distant Strand Bridge There Was Not To Convey, Not A Bark Was Near At Hand, Yet True Love Soon Found The Way.

A Sublime Soul Can Rise To All Kinds Of Greatness, But By An Effort; It Can Tear Itself From All Bondage, To All That Limits And Constrains It, But Only By Strength Of Will. Consequently The Sublime Soul Is Only Free By Broken Efforts.

Great Souls Endure In Silence.

Accursed Be He Who Plays With The Devil.

The Great Happiness Of Life, I Find, After All, To Consist In The Regular Discharge Of Some Mechanical Duty.