I like to think that when I fall, A rain-drop in Death's shoreless sea, This shelf of books along the wall, Beside my bed, will mourn for me.

There's a race of men that don't fit in, A race that can't sit still; So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the world at will. They range the field and rove the flood, And they climb the mountain's crest; Their's is the curse of the gypsy blood, And they don't know how to rest.

His life, though none too long, Was never dull: Of woman, wine and song Bill had his full.

The only society I like is rough and tough, and the tougher the better. There's where you get down to bedrock and meet human people.

Be master of your petty annoyances and conserve your energies for the big, worthwhile things. It isn't the mountain ahead that wears you out - it's the grain of sand in your shoe.

The happy man is he who knows his limitations, yet bows to no false gods.

The Wanderlust has got me... by the belly-aching fire