The Life, Which Others Pay, Let Us

And Empty Words Are Evil.

Like A Girl, A Baby Running After Her Mother, Begging To Be Picked Up, And She Tugs On Her Skirts, Holding Her Back As She Tries To Hurry Off—all Tears, Fawning Up At Her, Till She Takes Her In Her Arms… That’s How You Look, Patroclus, Streaming Live Tears.

The Man Does Better Who Runs From Disaster Than He Who Is Caught By It.

This Is The Way I've Always Thought It Should Be. We've Always Blamed Ourselves, But I Guess We Know What Cylinder Wasn't Firing!

You, Why Are You So Afraid Of War And Slaughter? Even If All The Rest Of Us Drop And Die Around You, Grappling For The Ships, You’d Run No Risk Of Death: You Lack The Heart To Last It Out In Combat—coward!