Silence 'tis Awe Decrees.

Measure Your Mind's Height By The Shade It Casts.

How Well I Know What I Mean To Do When The Long Dark Autumn Evenings Come, And Where, My Soul, Is Thy Pleasant Hue? With The Music Of All Thy Voices, Dumb In Life’s November Too! I Shall Be Found By The Fire, Suppose, O’er A Great Wise Book As Beseemeth Age, While The Shutters Flap As The Cross-wind Blows, And I Turn The Page, And I Turn The Page, Not Verse Now, Only Prose!

One Wise Man's Verdict Outweighs All The Fools'.

The Devil, That Old Stager, Who Leads Downward, Perhaps, But Fiddles All The Way!

Truth Is Within Ourselves.