How Quick The Old Woe Follows A

Where You Are Is Of No Moment, But Only What You Are Doing There. It Is Not The Place That Ennobles You, But You The Place, And This Only By Doing That Which Is Great And Noble.

I Saw The Tracks Of Angels In The Earth: The Beauty Of Heaven Walking By Itself On The World.

What Name To Call Thee By, O Virgin Fair, I Know Not, For Thy Looks Are Not Of Earth And More Than Mortal Seems Thy Countenances

I Have Taken Pride In Others, Never In Myself.

It Is Better To Will The Good Than To Know The Truth.