I hope the Vandals had thorns in their sandals
Porcupine, whom one must Handle, glove'd, May be Respected, but is never Loved.
A Man consumes the Time you make him Wait In thinking of your Faults-so don't be late!
God, give me hills to climb, And strength for climbing!
God's Road is all uphill, but do not tire; Rejoice that we may still keep climbing higher.
What one approves , another scorns, And thus his nature each discloses: You find the rosebush full of thorns, I find the thornbush full of roses.