Your own words and actions are the only things you will be called to account for. Thomas à Kempis.

Your prime one need is to do right, under whatever compulsion, till you can do it without compulsion. And then you are a Man. Ruskin.

Your tongue runs before your wit. Swift. 30

Your rusty kettle will continue to boil your water for you if you don't try to mend it. Begin tinkering and there is an end of your kettle. Carlyle.

Your voiceless lips, O flowers, are living preachers,—each cup a pulpit, and each leaf a book. Horace Smith.

Your words are like notes of dying swans—/ Too sweet to last. Dryden.

You're always sure to detect / A sham in the things folks most affect. Bret Harte.

Yours is a pauper's soul, a rich man's pelf: / 35 Rich to your heirs, a pauper to yourself. Lucillius.

Youth, abundant wealth, high birth, and inexperience, are, each of them, the source of ruin. What then must be the fate of him in whom all four are combined? Hitopadesa.

Youth beholds happiness gleaming in the prospect. Age looks back on the happiness of youth, and, instead of hopes, seeks its enjoyment in the recollection of hope. Coleridge.