He that wrongs his friend, wrongs himself more.

My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind, for those that were here we see no more.

My purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset and the baths of all the Western stars until I die.

Old age hath yet his honour and his toil.

The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

the shell must break before the bird can fly.