Happy the man, and happy he alone, he who can call today his own: he who, secure within, can say, tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today. Be fair or foul or rain or shine, the joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine. Not Heaven itself upon the past has power, but what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.

Who after wine, talks of wars hardships or of poverty.

Sometimes even excellent Homer nods.

By the favour of the heavens

Of writing well the source and fountainhead is wise thinking.

He will be beloved when he is no more.

Don't just think, do.