We May Outrun By Violent

Farewell The Plumed Troop, And The Big Wars That Make Ambition Virtue! O, Farewell! Farewell The Neighing Steed And The Shrill Trump, The Spirit-stirring Drum, Th' Ear-piercing Fife, The Royal Banner, And All Quality, Pride, Pomp, And Circumstance Of Glorious War!

Of All The Flowers, Me Thinks A Rose Is Best.

Conceal Me What I Am, And Be My Aid For Such Disguise As Haply Shall Become The Form Of My Intent.

So All My Best Is Dressing Old Words New.

For Murder, Though It Have No Tongue, Will Speak With Most Miraculous Organ.