Headlines Twice The Size Of

Memory Heaps Dead Leaves On Corpse-like Deeds, From Under Which They Do But Vaguely Offend The Sense.

Come! Let Us Lay A Lance In Rest, And Tilt At Windmills Under A Wild Sky! For Who Would Live So Petty And Unblest That Dare Not Tilt At Something Ere He Die; Rather Than, Screened By Safe Majority, Preserve His Little Life To Little End, And Never Raise A Rebel Cry!

It's Not Life That Counts But The Fortitude You Bring Into It.

Not The Least Hard Thing To Bear When They Go From Us, These Quiet Friends, Is That They Carry Away With Them So Many Years Of Our Own Lives.

We Are All Familiar With The Argument: Make War Dreadful Enough, And There Will Be No War. And We None Of Us Believe It.