Anger, if not restrained, is frequently more hurtful to us than the injury that provokes it.

War I abhor, and yet how sweet The sound along the marching street Of drum and fife, and I forget Wet eyes of widows, and forget Broken old mothers, and the whole Dark butchery without a soul.

Crime oft recoils upon the author's head.

These individulas have riches just as we say that we 'have a fever,' when really the fever has us.

The chief bond of the soldier is his oath of allegiance and love for the flag.

Teach the art of living well.

Small sorrows speak great ones are silent.