tand high, have many blasts to shake them;
And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.
--SHAKESPEARE.

The path of glory leads but to the grave.--GRAY.

We should be careful to deserve a good reputation by doing well; and
when that care is once taken, not to be over anxious about the
success.--ROCHESTER.

Say what we will, you may be sure that ambition is an error; its wear
and tear of heart are never recompensed,--it steals away the freshness
of life,--it deadens its vivid and social enjoyments,--it shuts our
souls to our own youth,--and we are old ere we remember that we have
made a fever and a labor of our raciest years.--LYTTON.

I charge thee, fling away ambition:
By that sin fell the angels.
--SHAKESPEARE.

A noble man compares and estimates himself by an idea which is higher
than himself, and a mean man by one which is lower than himself. The
one produces aspiration; the other, ambition. Ambition is the way in
which a vulgar man aspires.--BEECHER.

It is not for man to rest in absolute contentment. He is born to hopes
and aspirations, as the sparks fly upward, unless he has brutified his
nature, and quenched the spirit of immortality, which is his portion.
--SOUTHEY.

Ambition has but one reward for all:
A little power, a little transient fame,
A grave to rest in, and a fading name!
--WILLIAM WINTER.

All my ambition is, I own,
To profit and to please unknown;
Like streams supplied from springs below,
Which scatter blessings as they go.
--DR. COTTON.

ANGELS.--If you woo the company of the angels in your waking hours,
they will be sure to come to you in your sleep.--G.D. PRENTICE.

The accusing spirit, which flew up to heaven's chancery with the oath,
blushed as he gave it in; and the recording angel, as he wrote it
down, dropped a tear upon the word and blotted it out forever.--STERNE.

There are two angels that attend unseen
Each one of us, and in great books record
Our good and evil deeds. He who writes down
The good ones, after every action closes
His volume, and ascends with it to God.
The other keeps his dreadful day-book open
Till sunset, that we may repent; which doing,
The record of the action fades away,
And leaves a line of white across the page.
Now if my act be good, as I believe it,