Some love to roam o'er the dark sea's foam, Where the shrill winds whistle free.
If happy I and wretched he, Perhaps the king would change with me.
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.
Nations, like individuals, cannot become desperate gamblers with impunity. Punishment is sure to overtake them sooner or later.
Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds
There 's a good time coming, boys! A good time coming.