We Cannot All Be Masters.

Ah, What A Sign It Is Of Evil Life, Where Death's Approach Is Seen So Terrible!

Anger Is Like A Full Hot Horse, Who Being Allowed His Way, Self-mettle Tires Him.

What I Have Done Is Yours; What I Have To Do Is Yours; Being Part In All I Have, Devoted Yours.

We Make Guilty Of Our Disasters The Sun, The Moon, And The Stars; As If We Were Villians By Compulsion.

I Would We Were All Of One Mind, And One Mind Good.