In Order To Discover Truth, We Must

Thus One Memory Follows Another Until The Waves Dash Together Over Our Heads, And A Deep Sigh Swells The Breast, Which Warns Us That We Have Forgotten To Breathe In The Midst Of These Pure Thoughts.

Of These Years Nought Remains In Memory But The Sad Feeling That We Have Advanced And Only Grown Older.

All Ancient Books Which Have Once Been Called Sacred By Man, Will Have Their Lasting Place In The History Of Mankind, And Those Who Possess The Courage, The Perseverance, And The Self-denial Of The True Miner, And Of The True Scholar, Will Find Even In The Darkest And Dustiest Shafts What They Are Seeking For,-real Nuggets Of Thought, And Precious Jewels Of Faith And Hope.

The Evil-doer Mourns In The Next; He Mourns In Both. He Mourns And Suffers When He Sees The Evil Of His Own Work.

And Then When All Around Grows Dark, When We Feel Utterly Alone, When All Men Right And Left Pass Us By And Know Us Not, A Forgotten Feeling Rises In The Breast.