I would not fear nor wish my fate, but boldly say each night, to-morrow let my sun his beams display, or in clouds hide them; I have lived today.
Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.
Come, my best Friends! my Books! and lead me on.
Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
Acquaintance I would have, but when it depends; not on number, but the choice of friends.
Enjoy the present hour, Be thankful for the past, And neither fear nor wish Th' approaches of the last.