There Is A Joy In Danger.

France Is Invaded; I Am Leaving To Take Command Of My Troops, And, With God's Help And Their Valor, I Hope Soon To Drive The Enemy Beyond The Frontier.

I Closed The Gulf Of Anarchy And Brought Order Out Of Chaos. I Rewarded Merit Regardless Of Birth Or Wealth, Wherever I Found It. I Abolished Feudalism And Restored Equality To All Regardless Of Religion And Before The Law. I Fought The Decrepit Monarchies Of The Old Regime Because The Alternative Was The Destruction Of All This. I Purified The Revolution.

Die Young, And I Shall Accept Your Death-but Not If You Have Lived Without Glory, Without Being Useful To Your Country, Without Leaving A Trace Of Your Existence: For That Is Not To Have Lived At All.

This Soldier, I Realized, Must Have Had Friends At Home And In His Regiment; Yet He Lay There Deserted By All Except His Dog. I Looked On, Unmoved, At Battles Which Decided The Future Of Nations. Tearless, I Had Given Orders Which Brought Death To Thousands. Yet Here I Was Stirred, Profoundly Stirred, Stirred To Tears. And By What? By The Grief Of One Dog. Napoleon Bonaparte, On Finding A Dog Beside The Body Of His Dead Master, Licking His Face And Howling, On A Moonlit Field After A Battle. Napoleon Was Haunted By This Scene Until His Own Death.

You May Ask Me For Anything You Like Except Time.