All We Behold Is Miracle.

O Solitude, Where Are The Charms That Sages Have Seen In Thy Face? Better Dwell In The Midst Of Alarms, Than Reign In This Horrible Place.

But War's A Game, Which, Were Their Subjects Wise, Kings Should Not Play At. Nations Would Do Well To Extort Their Truncheons From The Puny Hands Of Heroes, Whose Infirm And Baby Minds Are Gratified With Mischief, And Who Spoil, Because Men Suffer It, Their Toy The World.

Truth Is The Golden Girdle Of The Globe.

And Diff'ring Judgments Serve But To Declare That Truth Lies Somewhere, If We Knew But Where.

War's A Game, Which, Were Their Subjects Wise, Kings Would Not Play At.