Toil is the law of life and its best fruit. - Lewis Morris

What power was this—chance, will you say? But chance, what else can it mean
Than the hidden Cause of things by human reason unseen?

The love of the Right, tho' cast down, the hate of victorious Ill,
All are sparks from the central fire of a boundless beneficent will.

Life is a chase,
And man the hunter, always following on,
With hounds of rushing thought or fiery sense,
Some hidden truth or beauty, fleeting still
For ever through the thick-leaved coverts deep
And wind-worn wolds of life.