The Path Is Smooth That Leadeth On

The Happiest Youth, Viewing His Progress Through, What Perils Past, What Crosses To Ensue, Would Shut The Book, And Sit Him Down And Die.

Weariness Can Snore Upon The Flint When Resting Sloth Finds The Down Pillow Hard.

Ne'er Ask Me What Raiment I'll Wear, For I Have No More Doublets Than Backs, No More Stockings Than Legs, Nor No More Shoes Than Feet--nay, Sometime More Feet Than Shoes, Or Such Shoes As My Toes Look Through The Overleather.

The Course Of True Love Never Did Run Smooth.

The Dullness Of The Fool Is The Whetstone Of The Wits.