Our Life Is Our Own To-day, To-morrow

He Who Conquers, Endures.

Each Man Has His Own Desires; All Do Not Possess The Same Inclinations.

Nothing Can Be Born Of Nothing; Nothing Can Be Resolved Into Nothing.

For Yesterday Was Once To-morrow.

Confined To Common Life Thy Numbers Flow, And Neither Soar Too High Nor Sink Too Low; There Strength And Ease In Graceful Union Meet, Though Polished, Subtle, And Though Poignant, Sweet; Yet Powerful To Abash The From Of Crime And Crimson Error's Cheek With Sportive Rhyme. [lat., Verba Togae Sequeris, Junctura Callidus Acri, Ore Teres Modico, Pallentes Radere Mores Doctus, Et Ingenuo Culpam Defigere Ludo.]