Govern Well Thy Appetite, Lest

I Must Not Quarrel With The Will Of Highest Dispensation, Which Herein, Haply Had Ends Above My Reach To Know.

To Hear The Lark Begin His Flight, And Singing Startle The Dull Night, From His Watch-tower In The Skies, Till The Dappled Dawn Doth Rise.

They Who Have Put Out The People's Eyes Reproach Them Of Their Blindness.

That Power Which Erring Men Call Chance.

Rather Than Be Less Car'd Not To Be At All.