A sense of Honor, all agree, is a fine human attainment, a worthy achievement. But what does it mean to act with Honor? How can we tell, in ourselves or in others? Is Honor even real? Some might say that all supposed Honor is only peacock like animal display, or mere ego disguised delusions of the id.
The Book of Honor is a venture into literary impressionism. Honor is beyond theory, beyond codes. It lies in how we conduct ourselves toward others. But the difference Honor brings to conduct is subtle and mercurial, like an effervescent aura shimmering in and out of present view.
Honor is all wrapped up in consciousness, thinking and feeling, in all the qualities in human existence we call the presence of virtue. We do not learn Honor by method or procedure. We do not build it brick by brick. Honor is a glow present in and lingering over those moments when we conduct ourselves truly, in our actions and their meanings, in the presence of others as we deal with them, share experiences with them, live and die with them.