Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
O, read more

Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
O, that that earth which kept the world in awe
Should patch a wall t' expel the winter's flaw!

There are certain events which to each man's life are as comets
to the earth, seemingly strange and erratic read more

There are certain events which to each man's life are as comets
to the earth, seemingly strange and erratic portents; distinct
from the ordinary lights which guide our course and mark our
seasons, yet true to their own laws, potent in their own
influences.

Art and power will go on as they have done,--will make day out of
night, time out of space, read more

Art and power will go on as they have done,--will make day out of
night, time out of space, and space out of time.

Ideals are like stars; you will not succeed in touching them with your hands. But like the seafaring man on read more

Ideals are like stars; you will not succeed in touching them with your hands. But like the seafaring man on the desert of waters, you choose them as your guides, and following them you will reach your destiny.

Actions are the seed of fate deeds grow into destiny.

Actions are the seed of fate deeds grow into destiny.

A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of
the fish that read more

A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of
the fish that hath fed of that worm.

Destiny is something we've invented because we can't stand the fact that everything that happens is accidental.

Destiny is something we've invented because we can't stand the fact that everything that happens is accidental.

We are but as the instrument of Heaven.
Our work is not design, but destiny.

We are but as the instrument of Heaven.
Our work is not design, but destiny.

The future works out great men's destinies;
The present is enough for common souls,
Who, never looking read more

The future works out great men's destinies;
The present is enough for common souls,
Who, never looking forward, are indeed
Mere clay wherein the footprints of their age
Are petrified forever.