Truth Is Truth Howe'er It Strike.

No Work Begun Shall Ever Pause For Death.

Truth Is Within Ourselves; It Takes No Rise From Outward Things, Whate'er You May Believe. There Is An Inmost Centre In Us All, Where Truth Abides In Fulness; And Around, Wall Upon Wall, The Gross Flesh Hems It In, This Perfect, Clear Perception-which Is Truth. A Baffling And Perverting Carnal Mesh Binds It, And Makes All Error: And To Know Rather Consists In Opening Out A Way Whence The Imprisoned Splendour May Escape, Than In Effecting Entry For A Light Supposed To Be Without.

No, When The Fight Begins Within Himself, / A Man's Worth Something.

Take Away Love And Our Earth Is A Tomb.

Grow Old With Me! The Best Is Yet To Be.