To Me Avarice Seems Not

Let The Fruition Of Things Bless The Possession Of Them, And Take No Satisfaction In Dying But Living Rich.

Yet Is Every Man His Greatest Enemy, And, As It Were, His Own Executioner.

As Sins Proceed They Ever Multiply, And Like Figures In Arithmetic, The Last Stands For More Than All That Wert Before It.

Oblivion Is Not To Be Hired.

For There Is A Music Wherever There Is A Harmony, Order, Or Proportion, And Thus Far We May Maintain The Music Of The Spheres.