Abandon Every Hope, You Who

Oh Blind! Oh Ignorant, Self-seeking Cupidity Which Spurs Us So In The Short Mortal Life And Steeps Us So Through All Eternity!

I Am Made Of God, Through His Grace. Such That Your Misery Touches Me Not, Nor Does Flame Of That Burning Assail Me.

The Well Heeded Well Heard.

Thy Soul Is By Vile Fear Assailed, Which Oft So Overcasts A Man, That He Recoils From Noblest Resolution, Like A Beast At Some False Semblance In The Twilight Gloom.

The Customs And Fashions Of Men Change Like Leaves On The Bough, Some Of Which Go And Others Come.