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Updated: September 13, 2025


These are but empty braggarts, but prowlers of the night, Cut-throats and needy idlers and so the tumult ends Azarque lies in prison, forsaken by his friends. For, ah, both arms and reason powerless prove To turn the purpose of a king in love. Alone does Celindaja the coward crowd implore, "Oh, save him, save him, generous friends, give back to me my Moor."

Amedee soon became tired of these braggarts and lunatics, and no longer went to the Cafe de Seville. He lived alone and shut himself up in his discouragement, and he had never perhaps had it weigh more heavily upon his shoulders than this morning of the second of December, the last day of the battle of Champigny, while he was sadly promenading before the stacked guns of his battalion.

It was the same feeling which restrains any except fools or braggarts from wishing to sleep in "haunted" rooms, or to live in houses polluted with the memory of a revolting crime. No sane mind believes in foolish apparitions, but fancy may at times bewitch the best of us. So the Stradivarius was burnt.

All talk of their honor without the slightest occasion for doing so, boast of their ancestors, tell you about their lives, braggarts, liars, sharpers, as dangerous as the false cards they have up their sleeves, as delusive as their names in short, the aristocracy of the bagnio. "I adore these people.

They had their own undeviating regard for what they called honor: honor meant loyalty and fairness, nothing more. Simple, genial, unpolished braggarts were they, but their word was as good or better than a gentleman's bond.

But it was explained to me that this demonstration was aimed at my father and his ministers, guilty as they were of having refused to launch France into a general war about the Eastern question. I fancy my father troubled his head little about these would-be-wise demonstrators, worthy forerunners of the Boulevard braggarts who, at a later date, in 1870, so appositely shouted "a Berlin."

He justified the British opinion that we are a nation of braggarts. On the other hand, in London, we had Admiral Sims, another American, a splendid antidote. He corrected the Secretary's brag. What is the moral? Look out how you generalize.

They had talked large when danger was not near; but braggarts are cowards, and they thought now of nothing but their own worthless lives. Then, as always, the men who feared God feared nothing else, and the men who scoffed at the day of retribution, when it was far off, were unmanned with terror when it dawned.

Boasting is not courage. Still less is it poise. Poise is a power derived from the mastery of self. It inhibits all outward manifestations that are likely to result in giving information to strangers with regard to our real feelings. Braggarts can not avoid this stumbling-block. They know nothing of the delights of contemplation, from which arise ripe resolutions that will be steadfastly followed.

They paced backwards and forwards, asking themselves, "Are the Wagoga to be beaten like slaves by this Musungu? But whenever I made motion, flourishing my whip, towards them, these mighty braggarts found it convenient to move to respectable distances from the irritated Musungu.

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