I foresee a great funeral contest over me.
Every light is not the sun.
I do not steal victory.
May God keep you away from the venom of the cobra, the teeth of the tiger, and the revenge of the Afghans.
Are you still to learn that the end and perfection of our victories is to avoid the vices and infirmities of those whom we subdue?
Do you not think it a matter worthy of lamentation that when there is such a vast multitude of them [worlds], we have not yet conquered one?