Not One Drop Of Blood

To Run Over Better Waters The Little Vessel Of My Genius Now Hoists Her Sails, As She Leaves Behind Her A Sea So Cruel.

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

As The Geometer Intently Seeks To Square The Circle, But He Cannot Reach, Through Thought On Thought, The Principle He Needs, So I Searched That Strange Sight.

Three Things Remain With Us From Paradise: Stars, Flowers And Children.

This Mountain Is So Formed That It Is Always Wearisome When One Begins The Ascent, But Becomes Easier The Higher One Climbs.