Age is opportunity no less than youth itself.
Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, and childlike.
Our hearts are lamps for ever burning.
Every man has his secret sorrows.
O little feet! that such long years Must wander on through hopes and fears, Must ache and bleed beneath your load; I, nearer to the wayside inn Where toil shall cease and rest begin, Am weary, thinking of your road!
Man is unjust, but God is just; and finally justice triumphs.