"Life is like a chess. If you lose your queen, you will probably lose the game." — Being Caballero

"Chess is life in miniature. Chess is a struggle, chess battles." — Garry Kasparov

"Those who dare to fail miserably can achieve greatly." ― John F. Kennedy, 35th President of the United States, and former Navy Lieutenant

"Age brings wisdom to some men, and to others chess." — Evan Esar

"On the chessboard lies and hypocrisy do not survive long. The creative combination lays bare the presumption of a lie; the merciless fact, culmination in checkmate, contradicts the hypocrite." — Emanuel Lasker

"There's likely a place in paradise for people who tried hard, but what really matters is succeeding. If that requires you to change, that's your mission." — General Stanley McChrystal, U.S. Army Retired

"Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen." — Winston Churchill, former Prime Minister of the United Kingdom

"I will never quit. My nation expects me to be physically harder and mentally stronger than my enemies. If knocked down I will get back up, every time. I will draw on every remaining ounce of strength to protect my teammates and to accomplish our mission. I am never out of the fight." ― Marcus Luttrell, Lone Survivor: The Eyewitness Account of Operation Redwing and the Lost Heroes of SEAL Team 10

General chess advice from Joe Brooks: https://www.reddit.com/r/chess/comm...

* C40s: https://chessopenings.com/eco/C40/

* Good Historical Links: https://www.saund.co.uk/britbase/in...

* JonathanJ's favorite games 4: Game Collection: JonathanJ's favorite games 4

* elmubarak: my fav games: Game Collection: elmubarak: my fav games

* assorted Good games Compiled by rbaglini: Game Collection: assorted Good games

* LAST COLLECTION Compiled by Jaredfchess: Game Collection: LAST COLLECTION

* Internet tracking: https://www.studysmarter.us/magazin...

poem by B.H. Wood, entitled ‘The Drowser':

Ah, reverie! Ten thousand heads I see
Bent over chess-boards, an infinity
Of minds engaged in battle, fiendishly,
Keenly, or calmly, as the case may be:
World-wide, the neophyte, the veteran,
The studious problemist, the fairy fan ...
"What's that? – I'm nearly sending you to sleep? Sorry! – but this position's rather deep."

Source: Chess Amateur, September 1929, page 268.

Conceive a man by nature and misfortune prone to a pallid hopelessness, can any business seem more fitted to heighten it than that of continually handling these dead letters and assorting them for the flames? For by the cart-load they are annually burned. Sometimes from out the folded paper the pale clerk takes a ring: - the finger it was meant for, perhaps, moulders in the grave; a bank-note sent in swiftest charity: - he whom it would relieve, nor eats nor hungers any more; pardon for those who died despairing; hope for those who died unhoping; good tidings for those who died stifled by unrelieved calamities. On errands of life, these letters speed to death. Ah Bartleby! Ah humanity! — Herman Melville

Drive sober or get pulled over.

All The World's A Stage
William Shakespeare

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.

Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.