Dead men tell no tales.

Certainly there are great men whose age circumscribes them so completely that we lose interest.

A gang is the same as a wolf pack; gang members do not use their energies in friendship with one another, for they do not know what friendship is. If they are united, it is by the common bond of a desire to attack their world.

So much of what is best in us is bound up in our love of family, that it remains the measure of our stability because it measures our sense of loyalty.

When an individual fear or apathy passes by the unfortunate, life is of no account.

Our deeds disguise us. People need endless time to try on their deeds, until each knows the proper deeds for him to do. But every day, every hour, rushes by. There is no time.