Poor Fool! In Whose Petty Estimation All

Whoever Aspiring, Struggles On, For Him There Is Salvation.

To A Valet No Man Is A Hero. [ger., Es Gibt Fur Den Kammerdiener Keiner Helden.]

If God Had Wanted Me Otherwise, He Would Have Created Me Otherwise.

It Is Working Within Limits That The Craftsman Reveals Himself.

Sweet Moonlight, Shining Full And Clear, Why Do You Light My Torture Here? How Often Have You Seen Me Toil, Burning Last Drops Of Midnight Oil. On Books And Papers As I Read, My Friend, Your Mournful Light You Shed. If Only I Could Flee This Den And Walk The Mountain-tops Again, Through Moonlit Meadows Make My Way, In Mountain Caves With Spirits Play - Released From Learning's Musty Cell, Your Healing Dew Would Make Me Well!