They only fall, that strive to move, Or lose, that care to keep.
Be it jewel or toy, not the prize gives the joy, but the striving to win the prize.
Life is good, but not life in itself.
Do not think that years leave us and find us the same!
There is a pleasure that is born of pain.
Those true eyes, Too pure and too honest in aught to disguise, The sweet soul shining through them.