The Act The Act Must Not Be

I've Discovered Nothing. But Do You Remember How Much We Talked When We Were Boys? We Talked Just For The Fun Of It. We Knew Very Well It Was Only Talk, But Still We Enjoyed It.

There Is Something Indecent In Words .

Now That I've Seen What War Is, What Civil War Is, I Know That Everybody, If One Day It Should End, Ought To Ask Himself: "and What Shall We Make Of The Fallen? Why Are They Dead?" I Wouldn't Know What To Say. Not Now, At Any Rate. Nor Does It Seem To Me That The Others Know. Perhaps Only Dead Know, And Only For Them Is The War Really Over.

Don't Mix Wine And Women.

Nowadays, Suicide Is Just A Way Of Disappearing. It Is Carried Out Timidly, Quietly, And Falls Flat. It Is No Longer An Action, Only A Submission.