Respect was mingled with surprise, And the stern joy which warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel.

The way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seemed to have know a better day.

What an ornament and safeguard is humor! Far better than wit for a poet and writer. It is a genius itself, and so defends from the insanities.

Without courage there cannot be truth, and without truth there can be no other virtue.

Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances!

Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land.

When a man has not a good reason for doing a thing, he has one good reason for letting it alone.