Let Us, Then, Be What We Are;

Each Day Is A Branch Of The Tree Of Life Laden Heavily With Fruit. If We Lie Down Lazily Beneath It, We May Starve; But If We Shake The Branches, Some Of The Fruit Will Fall For Us.

Thought Takes Man Out Of Servitude, Into Freedom.

As Turning The Logs Will Make A Dull Fire Burn, So Change Of Studies A Dull Brain.

Gone Are The Living, But The Dead Remain, And Not Neglected; For A Hand Unseen, Scattering Its Bounty Like A Summer Rain, Still Keeps Their Graves And Their Remembrance Green.

Know How Sublime A Thing It Is To Suffer And Be Strong.