There's No Disappointment In Memory, And One's

It Is Never Too Late To Be Who You Want To Be.

Thought Has Joys Apart, Even In Blackest Woe, And Seizing Some Fine Thread Of Verity Knows Momentary Godhead.

Consequences Are Unpitying. Our Deeds Carry Their Terrible Consequences, Quite Apart From Any Fluctuations That Went Before—consequences That Are Hardly Ever Confined To Ourselves. And It Is Best To Fix Our Minds On That Certainty, Instead Of Considering What May Be The Elements Of Excuse For Us.

There Are New Eras In One's Life That Are Equivalent To Youth-are Something Better Than Youth.

There Is No Sense Of Ease Like The Ease We Felt In Those Scenes Where We Were Born.