A man can die but once.
The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond.
If there is a good will, there is great way.
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow We are such stuff as dreams are made of.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind, As man's ingratitude.
Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries.