For 'tis a truth well known to most,
That whatsoever thing is lost,
We seek it, ere read more

For 'tis a truth well known to most,
That whatsoever thing is lost,
We seek it, ere it comes to light,
In every cranny but the right.

What you lend is lost; when you ask for it back, you may find a
friend made an enemy read more

What you lend is lost; when you ask for it back, you may find a
friend made an enemy by your kindness. If you begin to press him
further, you have the choice of two things--either to lose your
loan or lose your friend.
[Lat., Si quis mutuum quid dederit, sit pro proprio perditum;
Cum repetas, inimicum amicum beneficio invenis tuo.
Si mage exigere cupias, duarum rerum exoritur optio;
Vel illud, quod credideris perdas, vel illum amicum, amiseris.]

Praising what is lost Makes the remembrance dear.

Praising what is lost Makes the remembrance dear.

A son could bear with great complacency, the death of his father,
while the loss of his inheritance might read more

A son could bear with great complacency, the death of his father,
while the loss of his inheritance might drive him to despair.
[Lat., Gli huomini dimenticano piu teste la morte del padre, che
la perdita del patrimonie.]

Show me a good loser and I'll show you an idiot.

Show me a good loser and I'll show you an idiot.

No evil is without its compensation. The less money, the less trouble; the less favor, the less envy. Even in read more

No evil is without its compensation. The less money, the less trouble; the less favor, the less envy. Even in those cases which put us out of wits, it is not the loss itself, but the estimate of the loss that troubles us.

You must never be satisfied with losing. You must get angry, terribly angry, about losing. But the mark of the read more

You must never be satisfied with losing. You must get angry, terribly angry, about losing. But the mark of the good loser is that he takes his anger out on himself and not his victorious opponents or on his teammates.

What we learned here is love tastes bitter when it’s gone.

What we learned here is love tastes bitter when it’s gone.

But over all things brooding slept
The quiet sense of something lost.

But over all things brooding slept
The quiet sense of something lost.