Difficulty On The Way To Victory Is

Torrent Of Light And River Of Air, Along Whose Bed The Glimmering Stars Are Seen, Like Gold And Silver Sands In Some Ravine Where Mountain Streams Have Left Their Channels Bare!

Make Not Thyself The Judge Of Any Man.

What Is Time? The Shadow On The Dial, The Striking Of The Clock, The Running Of The Sand, Day And Night, Summer And Winter, Months, Years, Centuries-these Are But Arbitrary And Outward Signs, The Measure Of Time, Not Time Itself. Time Is The Life Of The Soul.

How Beautiful The Silent Hour, When Morning And Evening Thus Sit Together, Hand In Hand, Beneath The Starless Sky Of Midnight!

He Looks The Whole World In The Face For He Owes Not Any Man.