You Must Either Conquer And Rule Or

A Man Should Hear A Little Music, Read A Little Poetry, And See A Fine Picture Every Day Of His Life, In Order That Worldly Cares May Not Obliterate The Sense Of The Beautiful Which God Has Implanted In The Human Soul.

When We See The Many Grave-stones Which Have Fallen In, Which Have Been Defaced By The Footsteps Of The Congregation, Which Lie Buried Under The Ruins Of The Churches, That Have Themselves Crumbled Together Over Them; We May Fancy The Life After Death To Be As A Second Life, Into Which Man Enters In The Figure, Or The Picture Or The Inscription, And Lives Longer There Than When He Was Really Alive. But This Figure Also, This Second Existence, Dies Out Too, Sooner Or Later. Time Will Not Allow Himself To Be Cheated Of His Rights With The Monuments Of Men Or With Themselves.

All Theory, Dear Friend, Is Gray, But The Golden Tree Of Life Springs Ever Green.

The Soul-stirring Image Of Death Is No Bugbear To The Sage, And Is Looked On Without Despair By The Pious. It Teaches The Former To Live, And It Strengthens The Hopes Of The Latter In Salvation In The Midst Of Distress. Death Is New Life To Both.

Alas, I Have Studied Philosophy, The Law As Well As Medicine, And To My Sorrow, Theology; Studied Them Well With Ardent Zeal, Yet Here I Am, A Wretched Fool, No Wiser Than I Was Before.