Let Grace And Goodness Be The Principal

Riches Cannot Rescue From The Grave, Which Claims Alike The Monarch And The Slave.

As Poetry Is The Harmony Of Words, So Music Is That Of Notes.

Ill Habits Gather Unseen Degrees, As Brooks Make Rivers, Rivers Run To Seas.

Possess Your Soul With Patience.

Fool That I Was, Upon My Eagle's Wings I Bore This Wren, Till I Was Tired With Soaring, And Now He Mounts Above Me.