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

We be of one blood, ye and I

A thin grey fog hung over the city, and the streets were very cold; for summer was in England.

For it's "guns this" and "guns that," and "chuck 'em out, the brutes," But they're the "Savior of our loved ones" when the thugs begin to loot.

A man can never have too much red wine, too many books, or too much ammunition

Gentleman-rankers out on the spree, damned from here to Eternity.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace. They swore, if we gave Them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease. But when we disarmed They sold us, and delivered us, bound, to our foe, And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."