Meddling with another man's folly is always thankless work.

If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! If I were damned of body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

I've taken my fun where I've found it.

Who has smelled the woodsmoke at twilight, who has seen the campfire burning, who is quick to read the noises of the night?

When man has come to the Turnstiles of Night, all the creeds in the world seem to him wonderfully alike and colorless.

Now, don't be angry after you've been afraid. That's the worst kind of cowardice.

And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden, You will find yourself a partner in the Glory of the Garden.