A man's real life is that accorded to him in the thoughts of other men by reason of respect or natural love.

It is the mark of an inexperienced man not to believe in luck.

It echoed loudly within him because he was hollow at the core.

It’s extraordinary how we go through life with eyes half shut, with dull ears, with dormant thoughts. Perhaps it’s just as well; and it may be that it is this very dullness that makes life to the incalculable majority so supportable and so welcome.

As to honor - you know - it's a very fine mediaeval inheritance which women never got hold of. It wasn't theirs.

Sleep after toyle, port after stormie seas, Ease after warre, death after life, does greatly please.

Your strength is just an accident owed to the weakness of others.