Variety is the condition of harmony.

War is a quarrel between two thieves too cowardly to fight their own battle.

The mystery of a person, indeed, is ever divine to him that has a sense for the godlike.

Without kindness there can be no true joy.

A poor creature who has said or done nothing worth a serious man taking the trouble of remembering.

Are not our greatest men as good as lost? The men that walk daily among us, warming us, feeding us, walk shrouded in darkness, mere mythic men.

A battle is a terrible conjugation of the verb to kill: I kill, thou killest, he kills, we kill, they kill, all kill.