He Who Finds He Has Wasted A

The Soul On Earth Is An Immortal Guest, Compelled To Starve At An Unreal Feast: A Spark, Which Upward Tends By Nature's Force: A Stream Diverted From Its Parent Source; A Drop Dissever'd From The Boundless Sea; A Moment, Parted From Eternity; A Pilgrim Panting For The Rest To Come; An Exile, Anxious For His Native Home.

Did Not God Sometimes Withhold In Mercy What We Ask, We Should Be Ruined At Our Own Request.

Everything Which Relates To God Is Infinite. We Must Therefore, While We Keep Our Hearts Humble, Keep Our Aims High. Our Highest Services Are Indeed But Finite, Imperfect. But As God Is Unlimited In Goodness, He Should Have Our Unlimited Love.

Absence In Love Is Like Water Upon Fire; A Little Quickens, But Much Extinguishes It.

Indeed, I Have, Alas! Outlived Almost Every One Of My Contemporaries. One Pays Dear For Living Long.