Why Did I Write? What Sin To

Trust Not Yourself, But Your Defects To Know, Make Use Of Every Friend And Every Foe.

Lend, Lend Your Wings! I Mount! I Fly! O Grave! Where Is Thy Victory? O Death! Where Is Thy Sting?

What Is It To Be Wise? 'tis But To Know How Little Can Be Known, To See All Others' Faults, And Feel Our Own.

All Looks Yellow To The Jaundiced Eye. [and Therefore The Solution Is To Fix The Jaundiced Eye.]

Of Darkness Visible So Much Be Lent, As Half To Show, Half Veil, The Deep Intent.