An efficiency-regime cannot be run without a few heroes stuck about it to carry off the dullness-much as plums have to be put into a bad pudding to make it palatable.

The human passions transform man from a mere thing into a hero, into a being that in spite of tremendous handicaps tries to make sense of life.

In war-time a man is called a hero. It doesn't make him any braver, and he runs for his life. But at least it's a hero who is running away.

A hero cannot be a hero unless in an heroic world.

Heroism does not require spiritual maturity.

From the time I read my first Hemingway work, The Sun Also Rises, as a student at Soldan High School in St. Louis, I was struck with an affliction common to my generation: Hemingway Awe.

The heroic man does not pose; he leaves that for the man who wishes to be thought heroic.

Life, misfortunes, isolation, abandonment, poverty, are battlefields which have their heroes; obscure heroes, sometimes greater than the illustrious heroes.

Heroes don't need to talk about what they did.

However great the advantages given us by nature, it is not she alone, but fortune with her, which makes heroes.