The wind so whirled a weathercock He could not hold his tail up; The frost so nipped a throstlecock, He could not snap a snail up.

And Netherlands, backed by a typically noisy and colourful travelling support, started the second period in blistering fashion and could have had four goals within 10 minutes.

They are among the silent, I believe; mostly far away from platforms and public palaverings; not speaking forth the image of their nobleness in transitory words, but imprinting it, each on his own little section of the world, in silent facts, in modest valiant actions, that will endure forevermore.

[…] I guess you got a medal when you got your arm shot off, didn't you? Yeah, I got the Purple Heart. That and a nickel will get you a cup of weak coffee at the Busy Bee Cafe.