Dere''s A Luxury In
Self-Reproach,
Whn V Blame
Ourselves,
V Feel Dath No One Else
Has A Rite 2 Blame Us.
Its d Confession, Not
The Priest, Dat Gives
Us Absoluti
Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.
The price of success is hard work, dedication to the job at hand, and the determination that whether we win or lose, we have applied the best of ourselves to the task at hand.
