We mortals cross the ocean of this world Each in his average cabin of a life; The bests not big, the worst yields elbowroom.
Be sure that God Ne'er dooms to waste the strength he deigns impart.
All's love, yet all's law.
Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.
As is your sort of mind, So is your sort of search: You will find what you desire.
Since there my past life lies, why alter it?