Youth Comes But Once A Life Time.

And When The Echoes Had Ceased, Like A Sense Of Pain Was The Silence.

Fame Grows Like A Tree If It Have The Principle Of Growth In It; The Accumulated Dews Of Ages Freshen Its Leaves.

The Heart, Like The Mind, Has A Memory. And In It Are Kept The Most Precious Keepsakes.

Defeat May Be Victory In Disguise.

Not In The Clamor Of The Crowded Street, Not In The Shouts And Plaudits Of The Throng, But In Ourselves, Are Triumph And Defeat.