Quid verum atque decens curo et rogo, et omnis in hoc sum.

A tract entitled Clypeum Veritatis, otherwise The Shield of Truth, which appeared early in 1618, is a typical deliberation on the pro et contra side, and I am taking it out of due order as it connects with the next tract. It claims (i) to deal with everything which “hereunto has been set forth openly, either for or against the Most Honourable and Blessed Brotherhood of the Rosy Cross,” and (2) to exhibit once and for all that which zealous disciples may expect confidently therefrom. The author in this case also was Irenaeus Agnostus, who subscribes himself (1) as writing from Tunis on February 21 of the year mentioned, (2) by special command of the glorious Brotherhood, he being (3) its “unworthy notary” through- out Germany. It affirms (1) that our highest good and way to the blessed life lies in the knowledge of God; (2) that the man who is devoted to the word of God is ever proceeding further in the quest of wisdom; and (3) that learning must be maintained for the propagation of celestial doctrine. (Development of Rosicrucian Literature)

Alius quidam veterum poetarum, cuius nomen mihi nunc memoriae non est, Veritatem Temporis filiam esse dixit.

Fere libenter homines id quod volunt credunt.

O quam cito transit gloria mundi.

Credula vitam
spes fovet et fore cras semper ait melius.

"Sordet cognita veritas" is a shrewd aphorism of Seneca. A truth, once known, falls into comparative insignificance.

Historia vero testis temporum, lux veritatis, vita memoriae, magistra vitae, nuntia vetustatis, qua voce alia nisi oratoris immortalitati commendatur?

Omne verum a quocumque dicatur a Spiritu Sancto est.

Quis credat tantas operum sine numine moles
Ex minimis, caecoque creatum foedere mundum?

In the 14th Century an anonymous English mystic wrote a book called The Cloud of Unknowing, the main theme of which is that God cannot be apprehended by man's intellect and that only love can pierce the "cloud of unknowing" which lies between Him and us. I feel that in my own life anything I have done of possible worth has happened in spite of my gross, worldly self. I have been no more than the vessel used to convey ideas above my intellectual capacities. When people praise passages I have written, more often than not I can genuinely say, 'Did I write that?' I don't think this is due to my having a bad memory, because I have almost total recall of trivialities. I see it as evidence of the part the supernatural plays in lives which would otherwise remain earthbound.

Qui finem quaeris amoris,
Cedit amor rebus; res age, tutus eris.

Quidem concessum est rhetoribus ementiri in historiis ut aliquid dicere possint argutius.

Quod adest memento
componere aequus.