Men of thought and men of action, clear the Way!

Men, it has been well said, think in herds; it will be seen that they go mad in herds, while they only recover their senses slowly, and one by one.

An arrow may fly through the air and leave no trace; but an ill thought leaves a trail like a serpent.

Tell me, ye wingèd winds That round my pathway roar, Know ye not some spot Where mortals weep no more?

Water is the mother of the vine, the nurse and fountain of fecundity, the adorner and refresher of the world.

Truth . . . and if mine eyes Can bear its blaze, and trace its symmetries, Measure its distance, and its advent wait, I am no prophet - I but calculate.

He who has mingled in the fray of duty that the brave endure, must have made foes. If you have none, small is the work that you have done.