Not on one strand are all life's jewels strung.

'Tis plate of rare device and jewels Of rich and exquisite form, their values great, And I am something curious, being strange, To have them in sale stowage.

A woman that is like a German clock, Still a-repairing, ever out of frame, And never going aright, being a watch, But being watched that it may still go right!

Take that life, beseech you, Which I so often owe; but your ring first, And here the bracelet of the truest princess That ever swore her faith.

The reward of labour is life. Is that not enough?

To do nothing but grumble and not to act - that is throwing away one's life.