Thinking Nurseth Thinking.

Our Poor Eyes Were So Enriched As To Behold, And Our Low Hearts So Exalted As To Love, A Maid Who Is Such, That As The Greatest Thing The World Can Show Is Her Beauty, So The Least Thing That May Be Praised In Her Is Her Beauty.

Hope Itself Is A Pain, While It Is Overmatched By Fear.

Scoffing Cometh Not Of Wisdom.

With How Sad Steps, O Moon, Thou Climb'st The Skies! How Silently, And With How Wan A Face!

We Become Willing Servants To The Good By The Bonds Their Virtues Lay Upon Us.