In Doubting We Come To Inquiry; By

Under The Pretext Of Study We Spent Our Hours In The Happiness Of Love, And Learning Held Out To Us The Secret Opportunities That Our Passion Craved. Our Speech Was More Of Love Than Of The Books Which Lay Open Before Us; Our Kisses Far Outnumbered Our Reasoned Words.

I Had Wished To Find In Philosophy And Religion A Remedy For My Disgrace; I Searched Out An Asylum To Secure Me From Love... Duty, Reason And Decency, Which Upon Other Occasions Have Some Power Over Me, Are Here Useless. The Gospel Is A Language I Do Not Understand When It Opposes My Passion... But When Love Has Once Been Sincere How Difficult It Is To Determine To Love No More! 'tis A Thousand Times More Easy To Renounce The World Than Love. I Hate This Deceitful, Faithless World; I Think No More Of It.

I Preferred The Weapons Of Dialectic To All The Other Teachings Of Philosophy, And Armed With These, I Chose The Conflicts Of Disputation Rather Than The Trophies Of War.

Language Is Generated By The Intellect And Generates The Intellect.

O What Their Joy And Their Glory Must Be, Those Endless Sabbaths The Blessed Ones See! Crowns For The Valiant, For Weary Ones Rest: God Shall Be All, And In All Ever Blest. Truly Jerusalem Name We That Shore, Vision Of Peace That Brings Hope Evermore; Wish And Fulfillment Shall Severed Be Ne'er, Nor The Thing Prayed For Come Short Of The Prayer.