Beaten paths are for beaten men.
Losers must have leave to speak.
That puts it not unto the touchTo win or lose it all.
Wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss,But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.
A wise man loses nothing, if he but save himself.
What's saved affordsNo indication of what's lost.
Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.
But over all things brooding sleptThe quiet sense of something lost.
Things that are not at all, are never lost.
No man can lose what he never had.
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