It Was The Worst Hurt He Had

My Life Shall Be Free And Broad And Great, And I Will Not Be The Slave To The Sense Delights Which Chained My Ancient Ancestry. I Reject The Heritage. I Break The Entail. And Who Are You To Say I Am Unwise?

Man Rarely Places A Proper Valuation Upon His Womankind, At Least Not Until Deprived Of Them.

There Is An Ecstasy That Marks The Summit Of Life, And Beyond Which Life Cannot Rise. And Such Is The Paradox Of Living, This Ecstasy Comes When One Is Most Alive, And It Comes As A Complete Forgetfulness That One Is Alive. This Ecstasy, This Forgetfulness Of Living, Comes To The Artist, Caught Up And Out Of Himself In A Sheet Of Flame; It Comes To The Soldier, War-mad In A Stricken Field And Refusing Quarter; And It Came To Buck, Leading The Pack, Sounding The Old Wolf-cry, Straining After The Food That Was Alive And That Fled Swiftly Before Him Through The Moonlight.

It's Better To Stand By Someone's Side Than By Yourself

But Under It All They Were Men, Penetrating The Land Of Desolation And Mockery And Silence, Puny Adventurers Bent On Colossal Adventure, Pitting Themselves Against The Might Of A World As Remote And Alien And Pulseless As The Abysses Of Space.