Happy the man whose lot it is to know The secrets of the earth. He hastens not To work his fellows hurt by unjust deeds, But with rapt admiration contemplates Immortal Nature's ageless harmony, And how and when the order came to be.

The language of truth is simple.

Virtue proceeds through effort.

None can hold fortune still and make it last.

My tongue swore, but my mind was still unpledged.

Power gives no purchase to the hand, it will not hold, soon perishes, and greatness goes.

Who cannot open an honest mind No friend will he be of mine.