Every Professional Was Once An Amateur.

Lulled In The Countless Chambers Of The Brain, Our Thoughts Are Linked By Many A Hidden Chain; Awake But One, And In, What Myriads Rise!

An Excuse Is Worse And More Terrible Than A Lie; For An Excuse Is A Lie Guarded.

From Vulgar Bounds With Brave Disorder Part, And Snatch A Grace Beyond The Reach Of Art.

The Vanity Of Human Life Is Like A River, Constantly Passing Away, And Yet Constantly Coming On.

In Pride, In Reas'ning Pride, Our Error Lies; All Quit Their Sphere And Rush Into The Skies. Pride Still Is Aiming At The Bless'd Abodes, Men Would Be Angels, Angels Would Be Gods.