Heroes Are Very Human, Most

For A Young Man, Sleep Is A Sure Solvent Of Distress. There Whirls Not For Him In The Night Any So Hideous Phantasmagoria As Will Not Become, In The Clarity Of The Next Morning, A Spruce Procession For Him To Lead. Brief The Vague Horror Of His Awakening; Memory Sweeps Back To Him, And He Sees Nothing Dreadful After All. "why Not?" Is The Sun's Bright Message To Him, And "why Not Indeed?" His Answer.

Great Men Are But Life-sized. Most Of Them, Indeed, Are Rather Short.

Some People Are Born To Lift Heavy Weights, Some Are Born To Juggle Golden Balls.

Death Cancels All Engagements.

Zuleika, On A Desert Island, Would Have Spent Most Of Her Time In Looking For A Man's Footprint.