Flying Is The Only Active Profession I

And Some Cease Feeling Even Themselves Or For Themselves. Dullness Best Solves The Tease And Doubt Of Shelling

For By My Glee Might Many Men Have Laughed, And Of My Weeping May Something Have Been Left, Which Must Die Now.

My Subject Is War, And The Pity Of War.

The War Affects Me Less Than It Ought. But I Can Do No Service To Anybody By Agitating For News Or Making Dole Over The Slaughter.

It Seemed That Out Of Battle I Escaped Down Some Profound Dull Tunnel, Long Since Scooped Through Granites Which Titanic Wars Had Groined.