For afterwards a man finds pleasure in his pains, when he has suffered long and wandered long. So I will tell you what you ask and seek to know.

Few sons are like their fathers - many are worse, few better.

I say no wealth is worth my life.

I long for home, long for the sight of home.

And now I'm using sarcasm, to confess the whole thing so later I could say I already told you.

What greater glory attends a man than what he wins with his racing feet and his striving hands?

Clanless, lawless, homeless is he who is in love with civil war, that brutal ferocious thing.