Success Is The Brand On The Brow

Men In A Ship Are Always Looking Up, And Men Ashore Are Usually Looking Down.

So Shall I Fight, So Shall I Tread, In This Long War Beneath The Stars; So Shall A Glory Wreathe My Head, So Shall I Faint And Show The Scars, Until This Case, This Clogging Mould, Be Smithied All To Kingly Gold.

His Face Was Filled With Broken Commandments.

Off Cape Horn There Are But Two Kinds Of Weather, Neither One Of Them A Pleasant Kind.

The Luck Will Alter And The Star Will Rise.