Out Of Nothing Can Come, And Nothing

Lives There The Man With Soul So Dead As To Disown The Wish To Merit The People's Applause, And Having Uttered Words Worthy To Be Kept In Cedar Oil To Latest Times, To Leave Behind Him Rhymes That Dread Neither Herrings Nor Frankincense.

Quantum Est In Rebus Inane! How Much Folly There Is In Human Affairs.

Please Not Thyself The Flattering Crowd To Hear; 'tis Fulsome Stuff, To Please Thy Itching Ear. Survey Thy Soul, Not What Thou Does Appear, But What Thou Art.

For Yesterday Was Once To-morrow.

Learn Whom God Has Ordered You To Be, And In What Part Of Human Affairs You Have Been Placed.