With the dried blood stiff on my temples I climbed the hill, cursing the satanic way of men, yet knowing myself vile, for they had not known what they were doing, but I betrayed an innocent; and the tears - weak, whiskey tears - would not wash from my brow the blood of a little brother.
-Henry Williamson
Select a background
More quotes by Henry Williamson
Popular Authors
A curated listing of popular authors.