Honour is manly decency. The shame of being found wanting in it means everything to us. Is this, then, the indefinable, the sacred thing?

What is the use of theorizing as to wherein lies the charm that moves us?

Of what use is the memory of facts, if not to serve as an example of good or of evil?

Greatness is the dream of youth realized in old age.

The existence of the soldier, next to capital punishment, is the most grievous vestige of barbarism which survives among men.

Do you know that charming part of our country which has been called the garden of France - that spot where, amid verdant plains watered by wide streams, one inhales the purest air of heaven?

An army is a nation within a nation, it is one of the vices of courage.