Read my little fable: He that runs may read. Most can raise the flowers now, For all have got the seed.
Alfred Lord TennysonNot once or twice in our rough island story, The path of duty was the way to glory.
Alfred Lord TennysonI envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods: I envy not the beast that takes His license in the field of time, Unfetter’d by the sense of crime, To whom a conscience never wakes; Nor, what may count itself as blest, The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth; Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate’er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; ‘Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.
Alfred Lord Tennyson