'Tis the set of the sail that decides the goal, and not the storm of life.

Let no man pray that he know not sorrow, Let no soul ask to be free from pain, For the gall of to-day is the sweet of to-morrow, And the moment's loss is the lifetime's gain.

A pat on the back is only a few vertebrae removed from a kick in the pants, but is miles ahead in results.

Give her not greatness. For great souls must stand Alone and lonely in this little world: Cleft rocks that show the great Creator's hand, Thither by earthquakes hurled.

Moon and Sea You are the moon, dear love, and I the sea: The tide of hope swells high within my breast, And hides the rough dark rocks of life's unrest When your fond eyes smile near in perigee. But when that loving face is turned from me, Low falls the tide, and the grim rocks appear, And earth's dim coast-line seems a thing to fear. You are the moon, dear one, and I the sea.

One ship drives east and other drives west by the same winds that blow. It's the set of the sails and not the gales that determines the way they go.

There is no balking genius. Only death can silence it or hinder.