There Was A Door To Which I

As Far As You Can Avoid It, Do Not Give Grief To Anyone. Never Inflict Your Rage On Another. If You Hope For Eternal Rest, Feel The Pain Yourself; But Don’t Hurt Others.

The Grape That Can With Logic Absolute The Two-and-seventy Jarring Sects Confute: The Sovereign Alchemist That In A Trice Life's Leaden Metal Into Gold Transmute.

A Loaf Of Bread, A Jug Of Wine, And Thou.

Better Be Jocund With The Fruitful Grape Than Sadden After None, Or Bitter, Fruit.

But Helpless Pieces Of The Game He Plays Upon This Checker-board Of Nights And Days; Hither And Thither Moves, And Checks, And Slays, And One By One Back In The Closet Lays.