Nothing can be so bad as to be displeased with one's self.
When Time is spent, Eternity begins.
Wounded vanity knows when it is mortally hurt; and limps off the field, piteous, all disguises thrown away. But pride carries its banner to the last.
Who longest wait of all surely wins.
Who waits until the wind shall silent keep Will never find the ready hour to sow.
O sweet, delusive Noon, Which the morning climbs to find, O moment sped too soon, And morning left behind.