There will be little rubs and disappointments everywhere, and we are
all apt to expect too much; but then, if one scheme of happiness fails,
human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we
make a second better: we find comfort somewhere.

What am I lying here for? . . . We are lying here as though we had a chance of enjoying a quiet time. . . . Am I waiting until I become a little older?

Why should he think me cruel
  Or that he is betrayed?
I'd have him love the thing that was
  Before the world was made.

In my early sea-life, I used to listen to the eccentric and
complicated views expressed by a race of seamen long since passed
away. Occasionally there were amongst the crew one or two who had the
true British hypothetical belief in the demoniacal character of
Napoleon, but this was not the general view of the men with whom I
sailed; and after the lapse of many years, I often wonder how it came
about that such definite partiality in regard to this wonderful being
could have been formed, and the conclusion that impresses me most is,
that his many acts of kindness to his own men, the absence of flogging
and other debasing treatment in his own service, his generosity and
consideration for the comfort of British prisoners during the wars,
his ultimate defeat by the combined forces of Europe, the despicable
advantage they took of the man who was their superior in everything,
and to whom in other days the allied Kings had bent in homage, had
become known to the English sailors.

Courts and camps are the only places to learn the world in.
. . . Take the tone of the company that you are in.

What is now proved was once only imagin'd.

Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat, The mist in my face, When the snows begin, and the blasts denote I am nearing the place, The power of the night, the press of the storm, The post of the foe; Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, Yet the strong man must go: For the journey is done and the summit attained, And the barriers fall, Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained, The reward of it all. I was ever a fighter, so - one fight more, The best and the last! I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forebore, And bade me creep past. No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness and cold. For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements' rage, the fiend voices that rave, Shall dwindle, shall blend, Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, Then a light, then thy breast, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest!

He was part of my dream, of course - but then, I was part of his dream, too!

Star Wars is adolescent nonsense; Close Encounters is obscurantist drivel; Star Trek can turn your brains to purée of bat guano; and the greatest science fiction series of all time is Doctor Who! And I'll take you all on, one-by-one or all in a bunch to back it up!

While not exactly disgruntled, he was far from feeling gruntled. He spoke with a certain what-is-it in his voice, and I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled.