I Am More Afraid Of Deserving Criticism

The Natural Alone Is Permanent.

More And More Do I Feel, As I Advance In Life, How Little We Really Know Of Each Other. Friendship Seems To Me Like The Touch Of Musical-glasses--it Is Only Contact; But The Glasses Themselves, And Their Contents, Remain Quite Distinct And Unmingled.

Learn To Labour And To Wait.

All Are Architects Of Fate, Working In These Walls Of Time; Some With Massive Deeds And Great, Some With Ornaments Of Rhyme.

The First Pressure Of Sorrow Crushes Out From Our Hearts The Best Wine; Afterwards The Constant Weight Of It Brings Forth Bitterness, The Taste And Stain From The Lees Of The Vat.