Oh never star Was lost here but it rose afar.

Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!

How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead; So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!

The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate!

Look not down but up!

If all the world is a stage and life is just a play upon it, get me two seats in the stalls.

Smiling the boy fell dead.