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.
To die with glory, if one has to die at all, is still, I think, pain for the dier.
The man who knows when not to act is wise. To my mind bravery if forethought.
My tongue swore, but my mind was still unpledged.
Short is the joy that guilty pleasure brings.
Disaster appears, to crush one man now, but afterward another.