Ours is not to wonder why. Ours is just to do or die.

Follow the deer? Follow the Christ the King. Live pure, speak true,right wrong, Follow the King-- Else, wherefore born?

Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering 'it will be happier'.

Man is the hunter; women are the game; those sleek and shining creatures of the chase. We hunt them for the beauty of their skins; they love us for it, and we ride them down.

He is all fault who has no fault at all.

The old order changeth, yielding place to new, and god fulfills himself in many ways, lest one good custom should corrupt the world.

Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.