Courage Is The Fairest Adornment Of Youth.

We Are Little Flames Poorly Sheltered By Frail Walls Against The Storm Of Dissolution And Madness, In Which We Flicker And Sometimes Almost Go Out…we Creep In Upon Ourselves And With Big Eyes Stare Into The Night…and Thus We Wait For Morning.

The Coffin, It Shall Protect Me, Though Death Himself Lies In It

He Fell In October 1918, On A Day That Was So Quiet And Still On The Whole Front, That The Army Report Confined Itself To The Single Sentence: All Quiet On The Western Front. He Had Fallen Forward And Lay On The Earth As Though Sleeping. Turning Him Over One Saw That He Could Not Have Suffered Long; His Face Had An Expression Of Calm, As Though Almost Glad The End Had Come.

The Things Men Did Or Felt They Had To Do.

We Were Eighteen And Had Begun To Love Life And The World; And We Had To Shoot It To Pieces. The First Bomb, The First Explosion, Burst In Our Hearts. We Are Cut Off From Activity, From Striving, From Progress. We Believe In Such Things No Longer, We Believe In The War." - All Quiet On The Western Front, Ch. 5