I tell ye wut, my judgment is you're pooty sure to fail, Ez long 'z the head keeps turnin' back for counsel to the the tail.

Not suffering, but faint heart, is worst of woes.

The ultimate result of protecting fools from their folly is to fill the planet full of fools.

Greatly begin. Though thou have time, but for a line, be that sublime. Not failure, but low aim is crime.

The pale and quiet moon Makes her calm forehead bare, And the last fragments of the storm, Like shattered rigging from a fight at sea, Silent and few, are drifting over me.

Year by year, more and more of the world gets disenchanted. Even the icy privacy of the arctic and antarctic circles is invaded. We have played Jack Horner with our earth, till there is never a plum left in it.

All thoughtful men are solitary and original in themselves.