What men call luck Is the prerogative of valiant souls, The fealty life pays its rightful kings.

Granting our wish is one of Fate's saddest jokes.

Death is delightful. Death is dawn, The waking from a weary night Of fevers unto truth and light.

O reputation! dearer far than life.

Whom the heart of man shuts out, Sometimes the heart of God takes in, And fences them all round about With silence mid the worlds loud din.

True scholarship consists in knowing not what things exist, but what they mean; it is not memory but judgment.

We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage.