Joy All Creatures Drink At Nature's Bosoms.

Full Of Wisdom Are The Ordinations Of Fate.

Satisfied If They Themselves Can Escape From The Hard Labour Of Thought, They Willingly Abandon To Others The Guardianship Of Their Thoughts.

A Noble Heart Will Always Capitulate To Reason.

Not Without A Shudder May The Human Hand Reach Into The Mysterious Urn Of Destiny.

Utility Is The Great Idol Of The Age, To Which All Powers Must Do Service And All Talents Swear Allegiance. In This Great Balance Of Utility, The Spiritual Service Of Art Has No Weight, And, Deprived Of All Encouragement, It Vanishes From The Noisy Vanity Fair Of Our Time.