What torments of grief you endured, from evils that never arrived

As a cure for worrying, work is better than whiskey.

Keep cool: it will be all one a hundred years hence.

To be a star, you must shine your own light, follow your own path, and don't worry about the darkness, for that is when the stars shine brightest

Some of your hurts you have cured, / And the sharpest you still have survived, / But what torments of grief you endured / From evils which never arrived!

Sorrow looks back, Worry looks around, Faith looks up