The jest loses its point when he who makes it is the first to laugh.
The dream is short, repentance long.
Why should I deem myself to be a chisel, when I could be the artist?
Foster the beautiful, and every hour thou tallest new flowers to birth.
Without a home must the soldier go, a changeful wanderer, and can warm himself at no home-lit hearth.
Stubbornness is not firmness.