It becomes no man to nurse despair, but, in the teeth of clenched antagonisms, to follow up the worthiest till he die.
For man is man and master of his fate.
Ah, why should life all labor be?
When the Sun Clearest shineth Serenest in the heaven, Quickly are obscured All over the earth Other stars.
The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist.
I desire to leave to the men that come after me a remembrance of me in good works.