Dentro Un Pugno Di Cervel. A Handful Of Brain Holds Me: I Consume So Much That All The Books The World Contains, Cannot Allay My Furious Famine-Pains:-- What Feasts Were Mine! Yet Hunger Is My Doom. With One World Aristarchus Fed My Greed; This Finished, Others Metrodorus Gave; Yet, Stirred By Restless Yearning, Still I Crave: The More I Know, The More To Learn I Need. Thus I'm An Image Of That Sire In Whom All Beings Are, Like Fishes In The Sea; That One True Object Of The Loving Mind. Reasoning May Reach Him, Like A Shaft Shot Home; The Church May Guide; But Only Blest Is He Who Loses Self In God, God'S Self To Find.