We are the opening verse of the opening page of the chapter of endless possibilities.
I have my own matches and sulphur, and I'll make my own hell.
Both triumph and disaster are impostors.
Those who only know England know not England.
God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers.
Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates, and your cubs as they need, and ye can; But kill not for pleasure of killing, and seven times never kill Man!