Creatures of a day, what is any one? What is he not? Man is but a dream of a shadow. Yet when there comes as a gift of heaven a gleam of sunshine, there rest upon men a radiant light and, aye, a gentle life.

Point thy tongue on the anvil of truth.

Skills vary with the man. We must tread a straight path and strive by that which is born in us.

To our own sorrows serious heed we give, But for another?s we soon cease to grieve.

Great deeds give choice of many tales. Choose a slight tale, enrich it large, and then let wise men listen

Forge thy tongue on an anvil of truth and what flies up, though it be but a spark, will have light.

If one but tell a thing well, it moves on with undying voice, and over the fruitful earth and across the sea goes the bright gleam of noble deeds ever unquenchable.