And each forgets, as he strips and runs With a brilliant, fitful pace, It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones Who win in the lifelong race. And each forgets that his youth has fled, Forgets that his prime is past, Till he stands one day, with a hope that's dead, In the glare of the truth at last.

Be sure your wisest words are those you do not say.

Some praise the Lord for Light, The living spark; I thank God for the Night The healing dark.

His life, though none too long, Was never dull: Of woman, wine and song Bill had his full.

Avoid extremes: be moderate In saving and in spending; An equable and easy gait Will win an easy ending.

Our breath is brief, and being so Let's make our heaven here below, And lavish kindness as we go.

No man can be a failure if he thinks he's a success; If he thinks he is a winner, then he is.