Tomorrow is the day when idlers work, and fools reform and mortal men lay hold on heaven.

The man who consecrates his hours by vigorous effort, and an honest aim, at once he draws the sting of life and Death; he walks with nature; and her paths are peace.

Nature delights in progress; in advance.

Of boasting more than of a bomb afraid, A soldier should be modest as a maid.

Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote.

Let no man trust the first false step of guilt; it hangs upon a precipice, whose steep descent in last perdition ends.

Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears The palm, "That all men are about to live."