I Am No Longer A Shuddering Speck

The Soldier Is On Friendlier Terms Than Other Men With His Stomach And Intestines. Three-quarters Of His Vocabulary Is Derived From These Regions, And They Give An Intimate Flavour To Expressions Of His Greatest Joy As Well As Of His Deepest Indignation. It Is Impossible To Express Oneself In Any Other Way So Clearly And Pithily. Our Families And Our Teachers Will Be Shocked When We Go Home, But Here It Is The Universal Language.

There Was Only The Broad Square With The Scattered Dim Moons Of The Street Lamps And With The Monumental Stone Arch Which Receded Into The Mist As Though It Would Prop Up The Melancholy Sky And Protect Beneath Itself The Faint Lonely Flame On The Tomb Of The Unknown Soldier, Which Looked Like The Last Grave Of Mankind In The Midst Of Night And Loneliness.

Life Is A Disease, Brother, And Death Begins Already At Birth. Every Breath, Every Heartbeat, Is A Moment Of Dying - A Little Shove Toward The End.

It's All Rot That They Put In The War-news About The Good Humour Of The Troops, How They Are Arranging Dances Almost Before They Are Out Of The Front-line. We Don't Act Like That Because We Are In A Good Humour: We Are In A Good Humour Because Otherwise We Should Go To Pieces.

For A Moment I Had A Strange Intuition That Just This, And In A Real, Profound Sense, Is Life; And Perhaps Happiness Even - Love With A Mixture Of Sadness, Reverence, And Silent Knowledge.