All things that are Made for our general uses are at war,- Even we among ourselves.

Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow Which thy frozen bosom bears, On whose tops the pinks that grow Are of those that April wears! But first set my poor heart f…

Hit the nail on the head.

Three merry boys, and three merry boys, And three merry boys are we. As ever did sing in a hempen string Under the gallows tree.

Headmaster: I have never understood this liking for war. It panders to instincts already catered for within the scope of any respectable domestic establishment.

The last sound on the worthless earth will be two human beings trying to launch a homemade spaceship and already quarreling about where they are going next.

The condition of our survival in any but the meagerest existence is our willingness to accommodate ourselves to the conflicting interests of others, to learn t…