Mother, whose heart hung humble as a button the bright splendid shroud of your son, Do not weep. War is kind.

Think as I think," said a man, "or you are abominably wicked; you are a toad." And after I thought of it, I said, "I will, then, be a toad.

A very little boy stood upon a heap of gravel for the honour of Rum Alley. He was throwing stones at howling urchins from Devil's Row, who were circling madly about the heap and pelting him. His infantile countenance was livid with the fury of battle. His small body was writhing in the delivery of oaths.

A man with a full stomach and the respect of his fellows had no business to scold about anything that he might think to be wrong in the ways of the universe, or even with the ways of society. Let the unfortunates rail; the others may play marbles.

Doubtless there are other roads.

A mysterious fraternity born out of smoke and danger of death.

He saw that it was an ironical thing for him to be running thus toward that which he had been at such pains to avoid.