Wild and wide are my borders, stern as death is my sway; From my ruthless throne I have ruled alone for a million years and a day - Robert W. Service

Marriage is a bachelor’s punishment for his sins

Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear,
And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could hear;
With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold,
A helf-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold;
While high overhead, green, yellow, and red, the North Lights swept in bars? —
Then you've a hunch what the music meant . . . hunger and night and the stars.

Oh it is good to ride and run,
To roam the reenwood wild and free;
To hunt, to idle in the sun,
To leap into the laughing sea