A people always ends by resembling its shadow.
Gardens are not made by singing ‘Oh, how beautiful,’ and sitting in the shade.
Funny how the new things are the old things.
You must learn to forgive a man when he’s in love. He’s always a nuisance.
We have done with Hope and Honour. we are lost to Love and Truth, We are dropping down the ladder rung by rung; And the measure of our torment is the measure of our youth. God help us, for we knew the worst too young!
Delight in the little things.
Single men in barricks don’t grow into plaster saints.
A woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke.
Bite on the bullet, old man, and don’t let them think you’re afraid.
When you’re wounded and left on Afghanistan’s plains, and the women come out to cut up what remains, jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains and go to your gawd like a soldier.
Be slow to judge for we know little of what has been done and nothing of what has been resisted.
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.
An angry skipper makes an unhappy crew.
For all we take we must pay, but the price is cruel high.
The Guns, Thank God, The Guns...
It was the forty-fathom slumber that clears the soul and eye and heart, and sends you to breakfast ravening.
Go softly by that river side Or when you would depart, You’ll find its every winding tied; And knotted round your heart.
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master.
Both triumph and disaster are impostors.
But he couldn’t lie if you paid him and he’d starve before he stole.