Such Sweet Compulsion Doth In Music Lie.

Ink Is The Blood Of The Printing-press.

Such Bickerings To Recount, Met Often In These Our Writers, What More Worth Is It Than To Chronicle The Wars Of Kites Or Crows Flocking And Fighting In The Air?

The End Then Of Learning Is To Repair The Ruins Of Our First Parents By Regaining To Know God Aright, And Out Of That Knowledge To Love Him, To Imitate Him, To Be Like Him, As We May The Nearest By Possessing Our Souls Of True Virtue, Which Being United To The Heavenly Grace Of Faith Makes Up The Highest Perfection.

What Neat Repast Shall Feast Us, Light And Choice, Of Attic Taste?

Death Is The Golden Key That Opens The Palace Of Eternity.