It Is Too Little To Call Man

Death Be Not Proud, Though Some Have Called Thee Mighty And Dreadful, For Thou Art Not So. For, Those, Whom Thou Think'st Thou Dost Overthrow. Die Not, Poor Death, Nor Yet Canst Thou Kill Me.

The World Is A Great Volume, And Man The Index Of That Book; Even In The Body Of Man, You May Turn To The Whole World.

Licence My Roving Hands, And Let Them Go Before, Behind, Between, Above, Below.

When God's Hand Is Bent To Strike, It Is A Fearful Thing To Fall Into The Hands Of The Living God ; But To Fall Out Of The Hands Of The Living God Is A Horror Beyond Our Expression, Beyond Our Imagination.

He That Desires To Print A Book, Should Much More Desire, To Be A Book.