Captain Pedro, there you lie, shot, like a coward, through the back.

I wish you were alive to taste my boots.

Murderer of men and filthy ravisher of women, miscreant of God, how can I keep from trampling on you ?" It never had been in my dream that a good man could so entirely forget himself.

I wanted to think that it must be somebody else, and not our Uncle Sam.

But he looked toward the west, as all men do when their spirits are full of death, and the wan light showed that his chin was triple.
Whether it may have been right or wrong, I made all haste to get away.
The face of the dead man was quite a pleasant thing, compared with the face of the old man living.