Do not say it; you were perfectly right; you cannot despise me one tenth as much as I despise myself.

While you were looking at the mutineers from the roof I was leaning against the wall below well nigh fainting.

What do you think my feelings must be that here, where every man is brave, where there are women and children to be defended, I alone cannot bear my part.

Look at my face; I know there is not a vestige of color in it.

Look at my hands; they are not steady yet.