To Be Content With Death May Be

As Sins Proceed They Ever Multiply, And Like Figures In Arithmetic, The Last Stands For More Than All That Wert Before It.

Though It Be In The Power Of The Weakest Arm To Take Away Life, It Is Not In The Strongest To Deprive Us Of Death.

A Little Water Makes A Sea, A Small Puff Of Wind A Tempest.

To Believe Only Possibilities Is Not Faith, But Mere Philosophy.

But Man Is A Noble Animal, Splendid In Ashes, And Pompous In The Grave, Solemnizing Nativities And Deaths With Equal Lustre, Nor Omitting Ceremonies Of Bravery, In The Infamy Of His Nature. Life Is A Pure Flame, And We Live By An Invisible Sun Within Us.