Words, however, are things.

The man who seeks one thing in life and but one, May hope to achieve it before life is done; But he who seeks all things, wherever he goes, Only reaps from the hopes which around him he sows, A harvest of barren regrets.

Rest is sweet after strife.

There is a pleasure that is born of pain.

We are but as the instrument of Heaven.

That man is great, and he alone, Who serves a greatness not his own, For neither praise nor self: Content to know and be unknown: Whole in himself.

A fresh mind keeps the body fresh. Take in the ideas of the day, drain off those of yesterday. As to the morrow, time enough to consider it when it becomes today.