Love, One Time, Layeth Burdens;

Music, I Say, The Most Divine Striker Of The Senses.

O You Virtuous Owle, The Wise Minerva's Only Fowle.

The Journey Of High Honor Lies Not In Smooth Ways.

Solitude, The Sly Enemy That Doth Separate A Man From Well-doing.

If You Neglect Your Work, You Will Dislike It; If You Do It Well, You Will Enjoy It