And The Combat Ceased, For Want Of

He Should Be Envied Who When His Strength Is Spent Lays Down His Life. Old Age Reserves A Melancholy Fate For Noble Souls Before Their Life Is Done.

My Reason, It's True, Controls My Feelings, But Whatever Its Authority, It Doesn't Rule Them So Much As Tyrannize Them.

Those Who Resolve To Conquer Or Die, Are Rarely Conquered.

Rome, If You Do Not Wish Me To Betray You, Make Enemies That I Can Hate!

Ambition Becomes Displeasing When It Is Once Satiated; There Is A Reaction; And As Our Spirit, Till Our Last Sigh, Is Always Aiming Toward Some Object, It Falls Back On Itself, Having Nothing Else On Which To Rest; And Having Reached The Summit, It Longs To Descend.