In the long run men hit only what they aim at.

Being all fashioned of the self-same dust, let us be merciful as well as just

Wondrous strong are the spells of fiction.

Let him not boast who puts his armor on as he who puts it off, the battle done.

I am weary of your quarrels, Weary of your wars and bloodshed, Weary of your prayers for vengeance, Of your wranglings and dissensions

The spring came suddenly, bursting upon the world as a child bursts into a room, with a laugh and a shout and hands full of flowers.

Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike.