All Hell Broke Loose.

Thoughts That Voluntary Move Harmonious Numbers.

Oft, On A Plat Of Rising Ground, I Hear The Far-off Curfew Sound Over Some Wide-watered Shore, Swinging Low With Sullen Roar.

Confidence Imparts A Wonderful Inspiration To The Possessor.

This Is Servitude, To Serve The Unwise.

Fame Is No Plant That Grows On Mortal Soil.