My belt holds my pants up, but the belt loops hold my belt up. I don't really know what's happening read more

My belt holds my pants up, but the belt loops hold my belt up. I don't really know what's happening down there. Who is the real hero?

Hero-worship exists, has existed, and will forever exist,
universally among Mankind.

Hero-worship exists, has existed, and will forever exist,
universally among Mankind.

A man must indeed be a hero to appear such in the eyes of his
valet.
[Fr., Il read more

A man must indeed be a hero to appear such in the eyes of his
valet.
[Fr., Il faut etre bien heros pour l'etre aux yeux de son
valet-de-chambre.]

It hath been an antient custom among them [Hungarians] that none
should wear a fether but he who had read more

It hath been an antient custom among them [Hungarians] that none
should wear a fether but he who had killed a Turk, to whom onlie
yt was lawful to shew the number of his slaine enemys by the
number of fethers in his cappe.

The idol of to-day pushes the hero of yesterday out of our
recollection, and will, in turn, be supplanted read more

The idol of to-day pushes the hero of yesterday out of our
recollection, and will, in turn, be supplanted by his successor
of to-morrow.

But to the hero, when his sword
Has won the battle for the free,
Thy voice sounds read more

But to the hero, when his sword
Has won the battle for the free,
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word,
And in its hollow tones are heard
The thanks of millions yet to be.

Ferryman ho! In the night so black
Hark to the clank of iron;
'Tis heroes of the read more

Ferryman ho! In the night so black
Hark to the clank of iron;
'Tis heroes of the Yser,
'Tis sweethearts of glory,
'Tis lads who are unafraid!
Ferryman ho!

The hero is the world-man, in whose heart
One passion stands for all, the most indulged.

The hero is the world-man, in whose heart
One passion stands for all, the most indulged.

The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit read more

The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck,
Shone round him o'er the dead.
. . . .
The flames roll'd on--he would not go
Without his Father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.