Ruthless striving, overcomes everything.
How quick the old woe follows a little bliss!
I looked back at the summit of the mountain, which seemed but a cubit high in comparison with the height of human contemplation, were in not too often merged in the corruptions of the earth.
Mere elegance of language can produce at best but an empty renown.
And tears are heard within the harp I touch.
How difficult it is to save the bark of reputation from the rocks of ignorance.