The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight, But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the nigh… - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood; as the Emperors signed their names in green ink when under age, but when of age, in purple.

Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted;
If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning
Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment;
That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.

Great is the art of beginning, but greater the art is of ending;
Many a poem is marred by a superfluous verse.