Steady Of Heart And Stout Of Hand.

Sordid Selfishness Doth Contract And Narrow Our Benevolence, And Cause Us, Like Serpents, To Infold Ourselves Within Ourselves, And To Turn Out Our Stings To The Entire World Besides.

Within That Awful Volume Lies The Mystery Of Mysteries!

Methinks I Will Not Die Quite Happy Without Having Seen Something Of That Rome Of Which I Have Read So Much.

Certainly," Quoth Athelstane, "women Are The Least To Be Trusted Of All Animals, Monks And Abbots Excepted.

One Crowded Hour Of Glorious Life Is Worth An Age Without A Name