Can anything be sadder than work left unfinished? Yes, work never begun.
I lock my door upon myself, And bar them out; but who shall wall Self from myself, most loathed of all?
Obedience is the fruit of faith.
Oh roses for the flush of youth, And laurel for the perfect prime; But pluck an ivy branch for me Grown old before my time.
The downhill path is easy, but there's no turning back.
Consider The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:-- We are as they; Like them we fade away As doth a leaf.