Striving To Better, Oft We Mar What’s

Sir, In My Heart There Was A Kind Of Fighting That Would Not Let Me Sleep.

My Dear, Dear Lord, The Purest Treasure Mortal Times Afford Is Spotless Reputation; That Away Men Are But Gilded Loan Or Painted Clay... Mine Honor Is My Life; Both Grow In One; Take Honor From Me, And My Life Is Done.

Conscience Is A Thousand Swords.

Men From Children Nothing Differ.

Hardness Ever Of Hardness Is Mother.