Never Break The Neutrality Of A Port

I Cannot, If I Am In The Field Of Glory, Be Kept Out Of Sight: Wherever There Is Anything To Be Done, There Providence Is Sure To Direct My Steps.

Laurels Grow In The Bay Of Biscay, I Hope A Bed Of Them May Be Found In The Mediterranean.

There Can Be No Place For Self Entirely

Had We Taken Ten Sails, And Let The Eleventh To Escape, Being Able To Get At Her, I Could Never Have Called It Well Done.

I Have A Right To Be Blind Sometimes.