Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.
I do but sing because I must; and pipe but as the linnets sing.
Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For though from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar.
The bearing and the training of a child Is woman's wisdom.
A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.
Too much wit makes the world rotten.