My will is mine...I shall not make it soft for you.
To mourn and bewail your ill-fortune, when you will gain a tear from those who listen, this is worth the trouble.
God always strives together with those who strive.
The moving light, rejoicing in its strength, Sped from the pyre of pine, and urged its way, In golden glory, like some strange new sun.
A prosperous fool is a grievous burden.
Success! to thee, as to a God, men bend the knee.