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All men who have turned out worth anything have had the chief hand in their own education.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive

Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above For love is heaven, and heaven is love.

We shall never learn to feel and respect our real calling and destiny, unless we have taught ourselves to consider everything as moonshine, compared with the education of the heart.

Look back, and smile on perils past.

Oh, the tangled webs we weave When we practice to deceive.

And come he slow, or come he fast, It is but death who comes at last.

To all, to each, a fair good night, And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.

He that climbs the tall tree has won right to the fruit.

O many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant And many a word, at random spoken, May soothe or wound a heart that's broken