Translating from one language to another, unless it is from Greek and Latin, the queens of all languages, is like looking at Flemish tapestries from the wrong side, for although the figures are visible, they are covered by threads that obscure them, and cannot be seen with the smoothness and color of the right side.

The man who fights for his ideals is alive.

We ought to love our Maker for His own sake, without either hope of good or fear of pain.

I have always heard, Sancho, that doing good to base fellows is like throwing water into the sea.

When God sends the dawn, he sends it for all.

Here lies a gentleman bold Who was so very brave He went to lengths untold, And on the brink of the grave Death had on him no hold. By the world he set small store-- He frightened it to the core-- Yet somehow, by Fate's plan, Though he'd lived a crazy man, When he died he was sane once more.

He who sings frightens away his ills.