Old Year! upon the Stage of Time You stand to bow your last adieu; A moment, and the prompter's chime Will ring the curtain down on you.

A promise made is a debt unpaid.

It isn't the mountain ahead that wears you out; it's the grain of sand in your shoe.

I like to think that when I fall, A rain-drop in Death's shoreless sea, This shelf of books along the wall, Beside my bed, will mourn for me.

The trails of the world be countless, and most of the trails be tried; You tread on the heels of the many, till you come where the ways divide;And one lies safe in the sunlight, and the other is dreary and wan,But you look aslant at the Lone Trail, and the Lone Trail lures you on.

This is the law of the Yukon, that only the strong shall thrive; that surely the weak shall perish, and only the fit survive.

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