Sleep, thou patron of mankind, Great physician of the mind Who does nor pain nor sorrow know, Sweetest balm of every woe.
No yield to the dead! Never stab the fighter when he's down. Where's the glory, killing the dead twice over?
It's impossible to speak what it is not noble to do.
The joy that comes past hope and beyond expectation is like no other pleasure in extent.
Things gained through unjust fraud are never secure.
What men have seen they know; But what shall come hereafter No man before the event can see, Nor what end waits for him.