Time Is The Least Thing We Have.

The World Is A Fine Place And Worth The Fighting For And I Hate Very Much To Leave It.

When Spring Came, Even The False Spring, There Were No Problems Except Where To Be Happiest.

The Further You Go In Writing The More Alone You Are.

You May Talk. And I May Listen. And Miracles Might Happen.

There Were Many Words That You Could Not Stand To Hear And Finally Only The Names Of Places Had Dignity. Certain Numbers Were The Same Way And Certain Dates And These With The Names Of The Places Were All You Could Say And Have Them Mean Anything. Abstract Words Such As Glory, Honor, Courage, Or Hallow Were Obscene Beside The Concrete Names Of Villages, The Numbers Of Roads, The Names Of Rivers, The Numbers Of Regiments And The Dates.