What if the night voiced its pains shrewdly, walls encompassed him; what if its frozen tears melted on the panes or smoked on the trampled threshold, glowing logs sent forth a permeating heat, expanding his sense of luxury and content.

What with the solace of the new-found weed, and the genial brothers of the sea surrounding, tempests offered no terrors to him.
Listen.

Perhaps here is some indomitable Ulysses, who, scorning a blind immortalizer, recites his own rude Odyssey.

What exploits! What adventures on the broad seas and in the new-found wildernesses of the West! Ah, but a man was a man then; there were no mythic gods to guide or to thwart him; and he rose or fell according to the might of his arm and the length of his sword.

Hate sought no flimsy pretexts, but came forth boldly; love entered the lists neither with caution nor with mental reservation; and favor, though inconsiderate as ever, was not niggard with her largess.