There Are Three Natural Anaesthetics: Sleep, Fainting,

Blood Is A Destiny. One's Genius Descends In The Stream From Long Lines Of Ancestry.

Carve Every Word Before You Let It Fall.

The Riders In A Race Do Not Stop When They Reach The Goal. There Is A Little Finishing Canter Before Coming To A Standstill. There Is Time To Hear The Kind Voices Of Friends And Say To Oneself, The Work Is Done.

To Be Forgotten Is To Sleep In Peace With The Undisturbed Myriads, No Longer Subject To The Chills And Heats, The Blasts, The Sleet, The Dust, Which Assail In Endless Succession That Shadow Of A Man Which We Call His Reputation.

Be Willing To Commit Yourself To A Course, Perhaps A Long And Hard One, Without Being Able To Foresee Exactly Where You Will Come Out.