Haste, holy Friar, Haste, ere the sinner shall expire! Of all his guilt let him be shriven, And smooth his path from earth to heaven!

Anyone would feel an enormous sense of guilt going to one of these places - and if you're in a position to do something about it you've got to make an effort.

One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum.

Discretion is being able to raise your eyebrow instead of your voice.

High minds, of native pride and force, Most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse; Fear, for their scourge, means villains have, Thou art the torturer of the brave!

I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as 'twas said to me.