Diogenes carried me without owning me. Zeno could never finish crossing me. Borges filled me with libraries, yet left me unexplored. Empires claimed me, cartographers scarred me. I am measured but never held, occupied yet never grasped, divided but never cut. Every kingdom begins with me, and every grave receives me. What am I?

I spread through populations fast and wide and find the crowded places where I hide, I travel on the breath the hand the kiss and take what health the unsuspecting miss. I do not choose my host by wealth or name, the young the old the strong receive the same. I force the cities quiet and the borders shut and leave the hospitals beyond their cut. I am the moment nature shows its reach, arriving faster than the cures can teach. What am I

I ask no permission before I descend. I hide sharp edges and blur where things end. I have sheltered kings from winter's bite, And spared their allies from judgment's light. I may silence a mountain beneath silent white, Or smother dissent with a single decree. Whatever lies beneath me, Soon becomes harder to see. What am I?

I may command a marching line, or speak in terms not broadly defined. In war I rank, in talk I blur, the same one word can both confer.

A club most adults yearned to join, based on these two words, which make up his name. He started as Willie, a captain of a boat, before his species name stuck, and became the one we quote.