Feuds are forgiven, if not forgotten, in the hour of death("The Watcher O' The Dead")

every man has his own story, his own agony("The Watcher O' The Dead")

There is no man but carries in his breast the makings of a story, which, though never told, comes more home to him, than any the mind of another man can find and fashion in words("The Watcher O' The Dead")