E'en in mid-harvest, while the jocund swain Pluck'd from the brittle stalk the golden grain, Oft have I seen the war of winds contend, And prone on earth th' infuriate storm descend, Waste far and wide, and by the roots uptorn, The heavy harvest sweep through ether borne, As light straw and rapid stubble fly In dark'ning whirlwinds round the wintry sky.

Trust one who has tried.

Even virtue is fairer in a fair body.

Audaces fortuna iuvat (latin)- Fortune favors the bold.

They can do all because they think they can.

Maybe one day we shall be glad to remember even these hardships.

Persistent work triumphs.