Scholars customarily overvalue the influence of historical truth as against historical myth

Scholars customarily overvalue the influence of historical truth as against historical myth. Thomas Innes, by exact scholarship, revalued the sources of ancient Scottish and Irish history, providing a base in which all late scholars would build. Incidentally he removed centuries of false history, and thereby destroyed the historical foundations of whig theories and the historical justification of the Hanoverian succession to the throne of Scotland. But did the political cause of Jacobitism gain anything from his work? Probably not. We may doubt whether the Chevalier de St George [The Old Pretender] even read it. In fact very few people read it. Even the greatest historian of the eighteenth century [Gibbon] was not among them. 

H.R. Trevor Roper, The invention of Scotland (2014), 71

All the myths of England come not from the Anglo-Saxons but from the Celts

For what people believe is true is a force, even if it is not true. Myth may be a driving force: such as the myth of inevitability, encountered in Calvin, or of invincibility, as at Sparta. Myth may also be the soul of history, engendering imaginative literature in poetry or prose.

Some races, it seems, are more mythopoeic than others. The myths of ancient Greece are as inseparable from Greek history as they are from Greek literature. The Anglo-Saxons, on the other hand, have been the least mythopoeic of peoples. The English have created one of the great literatures of the world. Yet, have they a singe myth that they can call their own? Almost all peoples have a myth of their own origin: a heroic age; divine descent; the discovery and colonisation of their land. The Anglo-Saxons have no such thing: no halo of romance surrounds the misty figures of their alleged leaders , Hengist and Horsa. All the myths of England come not from the Anglo-Saxons but from the Celts.

H.R. Trevor Roper, The invention of Scotland (2014), xxi

He frightens the sun and eventually will catch her

There are two wolves, and the one who is chasing her [the sun] is called Skoll. He frightens her and eventually will catch her. The other is called Hati Hrodvitnisson. He runs in front of her trying to catch the moon. And, this will happen.

...

Next will come an event thought to be of much importance. The wolf will swallow the sun, and mankind will think it has suffered a terrible disaster. Then the other wolf will catch the moon, and he too will cause much ruin. The stars will disappear from the heavens.

S. Sturluson, The Prose Edda, tr. J Byock (2005), 20 and 71

Violence, naked force, has settled more issues in history than has any other factor

One girl told him bluntly: “My mother says that violence never settles anything.” “So?” Mr. Dubois looked at her bleakly. “I’m sure the city fathers of Carthage would be glad to know that. Why doesn’t your mother tell them so? Or why don’t you?” They had tangled before—since you couldn’t flunk the course, it wasn’t necessary to keep Mr. Dubois buttered up. She said shrilly, “You’re making fun of me! Everybody knows that Carthage was destroyed!” “You seemed to be unaware of it,” he said grimly. “Since you do know it, wouldn’t you say that violence had settled their destinies rather thoroughly?

....

Violence, naked force, has settled more issues in history than has any other factor, and the contrary opinion is wishful thinking at its worst. Breeds that forget this basic truth have always paid for it with their lives and freedoms.”

R. Heinlein, Starship troopers (1959), 26-27

'I’d trust them.’ And I knew that was the highest compliment Russell could give

Maybe it’s my old-fashioned fondness for an increasingly archaic notion of duty and commitment that make it so important to me. Perhaps I’ve a yen for the days when leaders inspired not through their ability to turn computer algorithms into billions of dollars of stock options, but because of their physical and mental courage in the face of danger and adversity. That’s why I love a sport that can make a virtue of mulishness, and find glory in a five-day draw. My encounter with Russell had shown me that the brand of loyalty I’ve always idolised doesn’t live on only in the pages of fiction, or Hollywood bromances. It’s not just something that a fan projects, hopefully, on to her sporting heroes – it can be as real as her imaginings. It endures, too. Russell told me how, even now, ‘If Athers asked for help to do something, you do it, because you’ve got a bond. Because even though we didn’t win a lot, we had some special moments, and we’ve been through something together.’ And then he paused. ‘Now I come to think about it . . . I ain’t got any friends, really. Not friend friends. I’m quite singular. Remote. But when you talk of Athers and Angus and Stewie and those guys . . . I’d trust them.’ And I knew that was the highest compliment Russell could give.

E. John Following on (2016), 122

Jack Russell's passion for painting was actually considered the least strange thing about him by his teammates

His [Jack Russell's] passion for painting was actually considered the least strange thing about him by his teammates, who witnessed his compulsive and fastidious behaviour towards his food, his clothes, his gear and much else. He once ate steak and chips every night for a month, and he wore the same batting shirt for eight years. ‘I’m not so bad now,’ Russell says. ‘It was just how I dealt with the pressure – I like repetition. I used to have underpants with dots on – one dot for the first session, two dots for the second session. I’d have them washed and dry to wear the next day.’ It must have been exhausting doing all that laundry on top of your regular job, I say. ‘That’s why rooming with me was a nightmare. In between games I was washing stuff in the bathroom sink, then I’d be hanging it over lightshades to dry it off.’ Although that was only the half of it – Russell would tape up his wet paintings, too. ‘I think Angus Fraser still gets headaches from the paint fumes. In Cape Town Neil Fairbrother was actually sick out of the window.’

E. John, Following on (2016), 105

In Tufnell’s case, it was a perfect opportunity to indulge in his favourite hobby, sleeping

In our nook in the pub, Tufnell is finding it hard to recall the West Indies tour, probably because he wasn’t picked in the first three Test matches. ‘That was a mistake,’ he says, ‘’cos that’d mean I’d just go on the piss for three weeks.’ In the third Test in Trinidad he was twelfth man, the substitute role that traditionally involves carrying drinks or equipment out to the players, and taking the field in the case of injury. In Tufnell’s case, it was a perfect opportunity to indulge in his favourite hobby, sleeping.

E. John, Following on (2016), 48