Even in a righteous cause force is a fearful thing.

Gray hairs are death's blossoms.

He, that noble prize possessing He that boasts a friend that's true, He whom woman's love is blessing, Let him join the chorus too!

Revenge is barren of itself: it is the dreadful food it feeds on; its delight is murder, and its end is despair.

I am better than my reputation

Joy, in Nature's wide dominion, Mightiest cause of all is found; And 'tis joy that moves the pinion When the wheel of time goes round.

It is well for a man when he has learned to endure what he cannot change, and to give up with dignity what he cannot retain.