For The World, I Count It Not

(death Is) A Leap Into The Dark.

Praise Is A Debt We Owe Unto The Virtue Of Others, And Due Unto Our Own From All Whom Malice Hath Not Made Mutes, Or Envy Struck Dumb.

Nor Do They Speak Properly Who Say That Time Consumeth All Things; For Time Is Not Effective, Nor Are Bodies Destroyed By It.

We Do But Learn To-day What Our Better Advanced Judgements Will Unteach Us Tomorrow.

It Is The Common Wonder Of All Men, How Among So Many Million Faces, There Should Be None Alike.