No man or woman born, coward or brave, can shun his destiny.

On these sands and in the clefts of the rocks, in the depths of the sea, in the creaking of the pines, you'll spy secret footprints and catch far-off voices from the homecoming celebration. This land still longs for Odysseus.

There is no greater fame for a man than that which he wins with his footwork or the skill of his hands.

I am a part of all that I have met. Yet, experience is an arch wherethro gleams that untravl'd world whose margin fades forever and forever when I move.

I want answers now or I want them eventually!

The skin of the coward changes color all the time, he can't get a grip on himself, he can't sit still, he squats and rocks, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his heart racing, pounding inside the fellow's ribs, his teeth chattering. He dreads some grisly death. But the skin of a brave soldier never blanches. He's all control. Tense but no great fear.

The hearts of the great can be changed.