The truly brave are soft of heart and eyes, and feel for what their duty bids them do.
We are all the fools of time and terror: Days Steal on us and steal from us; yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.
Let joy be unconfined.
One of the pleasures of reading old letters is the knowledge that they need no answer.
Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.
War, war is still the cry,-"war even to the knife!"