The book shd. be a ball of light in one's hand.
The real trouble with war (modern war) is that it gives no one a chance to kill the right people.
Until you know who has lent what to whom, you know nothing whatever of politics, you know nothing whatever of history, you know nothing of international wrangles.
'Tis the white stag, Fame, we're a-hunting, bid the world's hounds come to horn!
A man of genius has a right to any mode of expression.
As a bathtub lined with white porcelain, When the hot water gives out or goes tepid, So is the slow cooling of our chivalrous passion, O my much praised but-not-altogether-satisfactory lady.