It's All Rot That They Put In

Sometimes I Used To Think That One Day I Should Wake Up, And All That Had Been Would Be Over. Forgotten, Sunk, Drowned. Nothing Was Sure - Not Even Memory.

And Even If These Scenes From Our Youth Were Given Back To Us We Would Hardly Know What To Do. The Tender, Secret Influence That Passed From Them Into Us Could Not Rise Again. We Might Be Amongst Them And Move In Them; We Might Remember And Love Them And Be Stirred By The Sight Of Them. But It Would Be Like Gazing At The Photograph Of A Dead Comrade; Those Are His Features, It Is His Face, And The Days We Spent Together Take On A Mournful Life In The Memory; But The Man Himself It Is Not.

We March Up, Moody Or Good-tempered Soldiers - We Reach The Zone Where The Front Begins And Become On The Instant Human Animals.

... Clothes Sometimes Gave One More Of A Lift Than Any Philosophic Comforting.

Someone Said To Me Once That A Cigarette At The Right Moment Is Better Than All The Ideals In The World.