To You Your Father Should Be As

The Sweat Of Industry Would Dry And Die, But For The End It Works To.

To Pore Upon A Book, To Seek The Light Of Truth.

What Man Art Thou That, Thus Bescreened In Night, So Stumblest On My Counsel? *who Are You? Why Do You Hide In The Darkness And Listen To My Private Thoughts?*

All The World's A Stage, And All The Men And Women Merely Players: They Have Their Exits And Their Entrances; And One Man In His Time Plays Many Parts, His Acts Being Seven Ages.

I Pardon Him, As God Shall Pardon Me.