And On The Tree Of Life, The

Not To Know Me Argues Yourselves Unknown.

To Overcome In Battle, And Subdue Nations, And Bring Home Spoils With Infinite Man-slaughter, Shall Be Held The Highest Pitch Of Human Glory.

It Is Not Virtue, Wisdom, Valour, Wit, Strength, Comeliness Of Shape, Or Amplest Merit, That Woman's Love Can Win, Or Long Inherit; But What It Is, Hard Is To Say, Harder To Hit.

Know Thy Birth! For Dost Thou Art, And Shalt To Dust Return.

Angels Contented With Their Face In Heaven, Seek Not The Praise Of Men.