Nothing Can Be More Contemptible Than To

Nature In Darkness Groans And Men Are Bound To Sullen Contemplation In The Night: Restless They Turn On Beds Of Sorrow; In Their Inmost Brain Feeling The Crushing Wheels, They Rise, They Write The Bitter Words Of Stern Philosophy And Knead The Bread Of Knowledge With Tears And Groans.

The Stolen And Perverted Writings Of Homer & Ovid, Of Plato & Cicero, Which All Men Ought To Contemn, Are Set Up By Artifice Against The Sublime Of The Bible

On No Other Ground Can I Sow My Seed Without Tearing Up Some Stinking Weed.

There Can Be No Good Will. Will Is Always Evil; It Is Persecution To Others Or Selfishness.

Time Is The Mercy Of Eternity; Without Time's Swiftness Which Is The Swiftest Of All Things, All Were Eternal Torment.