'tis Only When They Spring To Heaven

Go In Thy Native Innocence, Rely On What Thou Hast Of Virtue, Summon All, For God Towards Thee Hath Done His Part, Do Thine.

The Aim, If Reached Or Not, Makes Great The Life: Try To Be Shakespeare, Leave The Rest To Fate!

Men Are Not Angels, Neither Are They Brutes.

Who Hears Music Feels His Solitude Peopled At Once.

Tis Looking Downward Makes One Dizzy.