Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I lay me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be: Home is the sailor, home from the sea, And the hunter home from the hill.

You can kill the body, but not the spirit.

And every day when I've been good, I get an orange after food.

Really don't choose every day from the harvest you experience but from the seeds you plant

Little do ye know your own blessedness; for to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive, and the true success is to labour.

When your toil has been a pleasure, you have not earned money merely, but money, health, delight, and moral profit, all in one.

We should strive to go on in fortune and misfortune like a clock during a thunderstorm.