But The English Are Different, And They

Call Saw That Everyone Was Looking At Him, The Hands And Cowboys And Townspeople Alike. The Anger Had Drained Out Of Him, Leaving Him Feeling Tired. He Didn't Remember The Fight, Particularly, But People Were Looking At Him As If They Were Stunned. He Felt He Should Make Some Explanation, Though It Seemed To Him A Simple Situation. "i Hate A Man That Talks Rude," He Said. "i Won't Tolerate It.

Occasionally The Very Youngness Of The Young Moved Him To Charity--they Had No Sense Of The Swiftness Of Life, Nor Of Its Limits. The Years Would Pass Like Weeks, And Loves Would Pass Too, Or Else Grow Sour.

Call Listened With Amusement--not That The Incident Hadn't Been Terrible. Being Decapitated Was A Grisly Fate, Whether You Were A Yankee Or Not. But Then, Amusing Things Happened In Battle, As They Did In The Rest Of Life. Some Of The Funniest Things He Had Ever Witnessed Had Occurred During Battles. He Had Always Found It More Satisfying To Laugh On A Battlefield Than Anywhere Else, For If You Lived To Laugh On A Battlefield, You Could Feel You Had Earned The Laugh. But If You Just Laughed In A Saloon, Or At A Social, The Laugh Didn't Reach Deep.

I'm Sure Partial To The Evening,' Augustus Said. 'the Evening And The Morning. If We Just Didn't Have To Have The Rest Of The Dern Day I'd Be A Lot Happier.

It Ain’t Dying I’m Talking About, It’s Living. I Doubt It Matters Where You Die, But It Matters Where You Live.” ~spoken By Augustus Mccrae