Covering Discretion With A Coat Of Folly.

A Hundred Thousand Welcomes: I Could Weep, And I Could Laugh; I Am Light And Heavy: Welcome.

O God Of Battles! Steel My Soldiers’ Hearts. Possess Them Not With Fear.

Poor And Content, Is Rich And Rich Enough; But Riches, Fineless, Is As Poor As Winter, To Him That Ever Fears He Shall Be Poor.

The Apprehension Of The Good Gives But The Greater Feeling To The Worse.

Graze On My Lips; And If Those Hills Be Dry, Stray Lower, Where The Pleasant Fountains Lie.