By Heaven, I'll Make A Ghost Of

These Cardinals Trifle With Me; I Abhor; This Dilatory Sloth And Tricks Of Rome.

Weary With Toil, I Haste Me To My Bed The Dear Repose For Limbs With Travel Tired; But Then Begins A Journey In My Head To Work My Mind, When Body's Work's Expir'd: For Then My Thoughts-from Far Where I Abide- Intend A Zealous Pilgrimage To Thee, And Keep My Drooping Eyelids Open Wide, Looking On Darkness Which The Blind Do See: Save That My Soul's Imaginary Sight Presents Thy Shadow To My Sightless View, Which, Like A Jewel Hung In Ghastly Night, Makes Black Night Beauteous And Her Old Face New. Lo! Thus, By Day My Limbs, By Night My Mind, For Thee, And For Myself No Quiet Find.

Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong To None.

Thou Shalt Be Free As Mountain Winds: But Then Exactly Do All Points Of My Command.

The Apprehension Of The Good Gives But The Greater Feeling To The Worse.