You cannot defend a bridge after the fashion of Horatius--you cannot conquer worlds like Alexander.

I fancy you will have to be content with being one of the best lords of the manor Rutsford has ever known." "You are sentimental, Basil," he said to him one morning, "but not practical.

A man is nothing unless he is practical.

Why not give up all these foolish notions of being a great hero?
Go down to Ulverston, build schools, almhouses, mechanics' institutes and all that kind of thing.

Marry and bring up your family to fear God and serve the queen.
One ounce of such practice is worth all the theory in the world." But Basil could not see it--he longed for the unattainable, the ideal.
What lay plainly before him was a matter of great indifference to him.
Colonel Mostyn, the keen, cynical man of the world, was, perhaps, the best companion he could have had.