In The Jungle, Life And Food Depend

I Have My Own Matches And Sulphur, And I'll Make My Own Hell.

As I Pass Through My Incarnations In Every Age And Race, I Make My Proper Prostrations To The Gods Of The Market-place. Peering Through Reverent Fingers I Watch Them Flourish And Fall, And The Gods Of The Copybook Headings, I Notice, Outlast Them All.

Take Everything You Like Seriously, Except Yourselves.

If You Can Keep Your Wits About You While All Others Are Losing Theirs, And Blaming You. The World Will Be Yours And Everything In It, What's More, You'll Be A Man, My Son.

There's A Legion That Never Was 'listed, That Carries No Colours Or Crest, But, Split In A Thousand Detachments, Is Breaking The Road For The Rest.