I Do What Many Dream Of, All

A Minute Of Success Pays For Years Of Failure.

All June I Bound The Rose In Sheaves, Now, Rose By Rose, I Strip The Leaves.

O World, As God Has Made It! All Is Beauty.

The Body Sprang At Once To The Height, And Stayed; But The Soul,-no!

The Aim, If Reached Or Not, Makes Great The Life: Try To Be Shakespeare, Leave The Rest To Fate!