All Powerful Souls Have Kindred With Each

And In Life's Noisiest Hour, There Whispers Still The Ceaseless Love Of Thee, The Heart's Self-solace And Soliloquy. You Mould My Hopes, You Fashion Me Within.

Above All Things I Entreat You To Preserve Your Faith In Christ. It Is My Wealth In Poverty, My Joy In Sorrow, My Peace Amid Tumult. For All The Evil I Have Committed, My Gracious Pardon; And For Every Effort, My Exceeding Great Reward. I Have Found It To Be So. I Can Smile With Pity At The Infidel Whose Vanity Makes Him Dream That I Should Barter Such A Blessing For The Few Subtleties From The School Of The Cold-blooded Sophists.

Chance Is But The Pseudonym Of God For Those Particular Cases, Which He Does Not Choose To Acknowledge Openly With His Own Sign Manual.

Be Not Merely A Man Of Letters! Let Literature Be An Honorable Augmentations To Your Arms, Not Constitute The Coat Or Fill The Escutcheon!

And I, The While, The Sole Unbusy Thing, Nor Honey Make, Nor Pair, Nor Build, Nor Sing.