Mercy, Pity, And Peace, Are The World's

A Skylark Wounded In The Wing, / A Cherubim Does Cease To Sing.

Every Mortal Loss Is An Immortal Gain.

The Fool Shall Not Enter Into Heaven Let Him Be Ever So Holy.

England! Awake! Awake! Awake! Jerusalem Thy Sister Calls! Why Wilt Thou Sleep The Sleep Of Death And Close Her From Thy Ancient Walls?

I Must Create A System Or Be Enslaved By Another Mans; I Will Not Reason And Compare: My Business Is To Create.