Life and death are balanced as it were on the edge of a razor
A boy without mischief is like a bowling ball without a liquid center.
Even his griefs are a joy long after to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured.
By hook or by crook this peril too shall be something that we remember
I would rather be tied to the soil as a serf... than be king of all these dead and destroyed.
Go on with a spirit that fears nothing.