Fair Play Is A Jewel.

Where Is The Coward That Would Not Dare To Fight For Such A Land As Scotland?

Breathes There The Man, With Soul So Dead, Who Never To Himself Hath Said, This Is My Own, My Native Land! Whose Heart Hath Ne'er Within Him Burn'd, As Home His Footsteps He Hath Turn'd From Wandering On A Foreign Strand! If Such There Breathe, Go Mark Him Well; For Him No Minstrel Raptures Swell; High Though His Titles, Proud His Name, Boundless His Wealth As Wish Can Claim; Despite Those Titles, Power, And Pelf, The Wretch, Concentred All In Self, Living, Shall Forfeit Fair Renown, And, Doubly Dying, Shall Go Down To The Vile Dust, From Whence He Sprung, Unwept, Unhonor'd, And Unsung.

I Did Not Myself Set A High Estimation On Wealth, And Had The Affectation Of Most Young Men Of Lively Imagination, Who Suppose That They Can Better Dispense With The Possession Of Money, Than Resign Their Time And Faculties To The Labour Necessary To Acquire It.

All Men Who Have Turned Out Worth Anything Have Had The Chief Hand In Their Own Education.

When Thinking About Companions Gone, We Feel Ourselves Doubly Alone.