Don't Cross The Bridge Til You Come

We Waste Our Best Years In Distilling The Sweetest Flowers Of Life Into Potions Which, After All, Do Not Immortalize, But Only Intoxicate.

From Labor There Shall Come Forth Rest.

None But Yourself Who Are Your Greatest Foe.

The Bravest Are The Tenderest.

The Things That Have Been And Shall Be No More, The Things That Are, And That Hereafter Shall Be, The Things That Might Have Been, And Yet Were Not, The Fading Twilight Of Joys Departed.