He that feareth is a slave, were he never so rich, were he never so powerful. But he that is without fear is king of all the world. Though hast my sword. Strike. Death shall...

the great mountains of the world are a present remedy if men did but know it against our modern discontent and ambitions. In the hills is wisdom’s fount. They are deep in time. They know...

(…) us, little children of the dust, children of a day, who with so many burdens do burden us with taking thought and with fears and desires and devious schemings of the mind, so that...

Surely time past is gone by like a shadow.

These things hath Fate brought to pass, and we be but Fate’s whipping-tops bandied what way she will.

Thunder and blood and night must usurp our parts, to complete and make up the catastrophe of this great piece.

Are ye ta’en with the swindle or the turn-sickness? Or are ye out of your wits?