There Is A Strength In The Even

It Is Not Strength, But Art, Obtains The Prize, And To Be Swift Is Less Than To Be Wise.

Two Diverse Gates There Are Of Bodiless Dreams, These Of Sawn Ivory, And Those Of Horn. Such Dreams As Issue Where The Ivory Gleams Fly Without Fate, And Turn Our Hopes To Scorn. But Dreams Which Issue Through The Burnished Horn, What Man Soe'er Beholds Them On His Bed, These Work With Virtue And Of Truth Are Born.

Thou Wilt Lament Hereafter, When The Evil Shall Be Done And Shall Admit No Cure.

One Omen Is Best, To Fight In Defense Of One's Country.

The Sex Is Ever To A Soldier Kind.