Half of tradition is a lie. - Stephen Crane

In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said, "Is it good, friend?" "It is bitter—bitter," he answered; "But I like it Because it is bitter, And because it is my heart."

Mother, whose heart hung humble as a button the bright splendid shroud of your son,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

He had been out among the dragons, he said, and he assured himself that they were not so hideous as he had imagined them. Also,