Heaven Is In A Grain Of Sand.

Love Seeketh Only Self To Please, To Bind Another To Its Delight, Joys In Another's Loss Of Ease, And Builds A Hell In Heaven's Despite.

I Will Not Cease From Mental Fight Nor Shall My Sword Sleep In My Hand.

He Whose Face Gives No Light, Shall Never Become A Star.

Kill Not The Moth Nor Butterfly, For The Last Judgement Draweth Nigh.

Improvement Makes Strait Roads, But The Crooked Roads Without Improvement, Are Roads Of Genius.