“Yes, he said in a voice indescribable, you are right. I am afraid of him. Therefore I swear by God that I will seek out this man whom I fear until I find him, and strike him on the mouth. If heaven were his throne and the earth his footstool, I swear that I would pull him down. How? asked the staring Professor. Why? Because I am afraid of him, said Syme; and no man should leave in the universe anything of which he is afraid.”

“Sunday is a fixed star," he said."You shall see him a falling star," said Syme, and put on his hat.The decision of his gesture drew the Professor vaguely to his feet."Have you any idea," he asked, with a sort of benevolent bewilderment, "exactly where you are going?""Yes," replied Syme shortly, "I am going to prevent this bomb being thrown in Paris.""Have you any conception how?" inquired the other."No," said Syme with equal decision.”

“No man should leave in the universe anything of which he is afraid...who would condescend to strike down the mere things that he does not fear? Who would debase himself to be merely brave, like any common prizefighter? Who would stoop to be fearless - like a tree? Fight the thing that you fear.”

“Then may I ask you to swear by whatever gods or saints your religion involves that you will not reveal what I am now going to tell you to any son of Adam, and especially not to the police? Will you swear that! If you will take upon yourself this awful abnegation, if you will consent to burden your soul with a vow that you should never make and a knowledge you should never dream about, I will promise you in return—""You will promise me in return?" inquired Syme, as the other paused."I will promise you a very entertaining evening."Syme suddenly took off his hat."Your offer," he said, "is far too idiotic to be declined. You say that a poet is always an anarchist. I disagree; but I hope at least that he is always a sportsman. Permit me, here and now, to swear as a Christian, and promise as a good comrade and a fellow-artist, that I will not report anything of this, whatever it is, to the police. And now, in the name of Colney Hatch, what is it?""I think," said Gregory, with placid irrelevancy, "that we will call a cab.”

“I am going to hold a pistol to the head of the Modern Man. But I shall not use it to kill him–only to bring him to life.”

“You don't expect me," he said, "to revolutionize society on this lawn?"Syme looked straight into his eyes and smiled sweetly."No, I don't," he said; "but I suppose that if you were serious about your anarchism, that is exactly what you would do.”

“The word "good" has many meanings. For example, if a man were to shoot his grandmother at a range of five hundred yards, I should call him a good shot, but not necessarily a good man.”