And in the wreck of noble lives Something immortal still survives.

Noble souls, through dust and heat, rise from disaster and defeat the stronger.

In old age our bodies are worn-out instruments, on which the soul tries in vain to play the melodies of youth. But because the instrument has lost its strings, or is out of tune, it does not follow that the musician has lost his skill.

But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.

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

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each tomorrow Find us farther than today.

People demand freedom only when they have no power.