We build statues out of snow, and weep to see them melt.
Vengeance to God alone belongs; But, when I think of all my wrongs My blood is liquid flame!
Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, When thought is speech, and speech is truth.
Heap on more wood! - the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
Caution comes too late when we are in the midst of evils.
Greatness of any kind has no greater foe than a habit of drinking.