The Work Under Our Labour Grows, Luxurious

Heaven Is For Thee Too High To Know What Passes There; Be Lowly Wise. Think Only What Concerns Thee And Thy Being; Dream Not Of Other Worlds, What Creatures There Live, In What State, Condition, Or Degree, Contented That Thus Far Hath Been Revealed.

Death Is The Golden Key That Opens The Palace Of Eternity.

The Work Under Our Labour Grows, Luxurious By Restraint.

Deep Vers'd In Books, And Shallow In Himself.

Necessity And Chance Approach Not Me, And What I Will Is Fate.