That glittering hope is immemorial and beckons many men to their undoing.
Love is all we have, the only way that each can help the other.
A sweet thing, for whatever time, to revisit in dreams the dear dad we have lost.
To die with glory, if one has to die at all, is still, I think, pain for the dier.
Those whose cause is just will never lack good arguments.
Again, a smooth answer, signifying nothing.