Where Life Is More Terrible Than Death,

Nature Proceeds Little By Little From Things Lifeless To Animal Life In Such A Way That It Is Impossible To Determine The Exact Line Ure Hath Made One World, And Art Another. In Brief, All Things Are Artificial; For Nature Is The Art Of God.

There Is Another Man Within Me That's Angry With Me.

But The Iniquity Of Oblivion Blindly Scattereth Her Poppy, And Deals With The Memory Of Men Without Distinction To Merit Of Perpetuity.

To Be Nameless In Worthy Deeds Exceeds An Infamous History.

Study Prophecies When They Are Become Histories.