In this life he laughs longest who laughs last.

I must go down to the sea again For the call of the running tide It's a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied.

Off Cape Horn there are but two kinds of weather, neither one of them a pleasant kind.

The luck will alter and the star will rise.

Life's battle is a conquest for the strong; The meaning shows in the defeated thing.

It is too maddening. I've got to fly off, right now, to some devilish navy yard, 3 hours in a seasick steamer, & after being heartily sick, I'll have to speak 3 times, & then be sick coming home. Still, who would not be sick for England?

In the dark room where I began My mother's life made me a man. Through all the months of human birth Her beauty fed my common earth. I cannot see, nor breathe, nor stir, But through the death of some of her.