He who jumps for the moon and gets it not leaps higher than he who stoops for a penny in the mud.
Howard PyleAn I must drink sour ale, I must, but never have I yielded me to man before, and that without wound or mark upon my body. Nor, when I bethink me, will I yield now.
Howard PyleSo passed the seasons then, so they pass now, and so they will pass in time to come, while we come and go like leaves of the tree that fall and are soon forgotten.
Howard Pyle