There are two days in the week about which and upon which I never worry... Yesterday and Tomorrow.
I cannot sing the old songs Though well I know the tune, Familiar as a cradle-song With sleep-compelling croon; Yet though I'm filled with music, As choirs of summer birds, I cannot sing the old songs-- I do not know the words.
Don't go around saying the world owes you a living.
It isn't the experience of today that drives men mad. It is the remorse for something that happened yesterday, and the dread of what tomorrow may disclose.