No Man Or Woman Born, Coward Or

Too Many Kings Can Ruin An Army

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.

What So Tedious As A Twice-told Tale?

I, For One, Know Of No Sweeter Sight For A Man's Eyes Than His Own Country.

Beauty- It Was A Glorious Gift Of Nature.