Look Homeward, Angel, Now, And Melt With

Accuse Not Nature: She Hath Done Her Part; Do Thou But Thine.

They Who Have Put Out The People's Eyes Reproach Them Of Their Blindness.

God Has Set Labor And Rest, As Day And Night To Men Successive.

The Work Under Our Labour Grows, Luxurious By Restraint.

Fame Is The Spur That The Clear Spirit Doth Raise. That Last Infirmity Of Noble Mind. To Scorn Delights, And Live Laborious Days.