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.

He who is everywhere is nowhere.

Full of men, vacant of friends.

He is a king who fears nothing, he is a king who desires nothing!

Nothing, to my way of thinking, is a better proof of a well-ordered mind than a man's ability to stop just where he is and pass some time in his own company.

They who have light in themselves will not revolve as satellites.

If we let things terrify us, life will not be worth living.