Words, as is well known, are the great foes of reality.
A word carries far, very far, deals destruction through time as the bullets go flying through space.
A modern fleet of ships does not so much make use of the sea as exploit a highway.
Joy and sorrow in this world pass into each other, mingling their forms and their murmurs in the twilight of life as mysterious as an overshadowed ocean, while the dazzling brightness of supreme hopes lies far off, fascinating and still, on the distant edge of the horizon
I can't imagine a human being so hard up for something to do as to quarrel with me.
They were conquerors, and for that you want only brute force--nothing to boast of, when you have it, since your strength is just an accident arising from the weakness of others.