Too much work and too much energy kill a man just as effectively as too much assorted vice or too much drink.

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

They will come back, come back again, As long as the red earth rolls. He never wasted a leaf or a tree. Do you think he would squander souls?

Politics are not my concern.... They impressed me as a dog's life without a dog's decencies.

The tumalt and shouting dies, The captains and the kings depart. Still stands thine ancient sacrifice, An humble and a contrite heat. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget, lest we forget.

What is the moral? Who rides may read.

If you can keep your wits about you while all others are losing theirs, and blaming you. The world will be yours and everything in it, what's more, you'll be a man, my son.