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