Strike Up The Drum And March Courageously.

All Places Are Alike, And Every Earth Is Fit For Burial.

O, Thou Art Fairer Than The Evening Air Clad In The Beauty Of A Thousand Stars.

Till Swollen With Cunning, Of A Self-conceit, His Waxen Wings Did Mount Above His Reach, And, Melting, Heavens Conspir'd His Overthrow.

Goodness Is Beauty In The Best Estate.

Infinite Riches In A Little Room.