Men are the dreams of a shadow.
War is sweet for those who haven't experienced it.
Even success softens not the heart of the envious.
Forge thy tongue on an anvil of truth and what flies up, though it be but a spark, will have light.
If one but tell a thing well, it moves on with undying voice, and over the fruitful earth and across the sea goes the bright gleam of noble deeds ever unquenchable.
Wrapt up in error is the human mind, And human bliss is ever insecure; Know we what fortune yet remains behind? Know we how long the present shall endure?