For they conquer who believe they can.
He has not learned the first lesson of life who does not every day surmount a fear.
And love’s the noblest frailty of the mind.
There is a pleasure in being mad which none but madmen know.
God never made His work for man to mend.
Go miser go, for money sell your soul. Trade wares for wares and trudge from pole to pole, So others may say when you are dead and gone. See what a vast estate he left his son.
Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray; Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun.
Tomorrow do thy worst, I have lived today.
Honor is but an empty bubble.
And plenty makes us poor.