Great Souls Suffer In Silence.

The Very Plants Turn With A Joyful Transport To The Light.

Fear Of Death Is Worse Than Dying.

Far Must Thy Researches Go Wouldst Thou Learn The World To Know; Thou Must Tempt The Dark Abyss Wouldst Thou Prove What Being Is; Naught But Firmness Gains The Prize, Naught But Fullness Makes Us Wise, Buried Deep Truth E'er Lies.

Worthless Is The Nation That Does Not Gladly Stake Its All On Its Honor.

That Which Is So Universal As Death Must Be A Benefit.