To Drink Is A Small Matter. To

We Can Know Nothing Till After This Grave Debate. The Soul Must Withdraw, For This Is Not Its Hour. Now The Knife Must Divide The Flesh, And Lay The Ravage Bare, And Do Its Work Completely.

Suffering Has Roused Them From The Sleep Of Gentle Life, And Every Day Fills Them With A Terrible Intoxication. They Are Now Something More Than Themselves; Those We Loved Were Merely Happy Shadows.

The Man Who Has Entered Into A Beautiful Union Is Sure Of At Least One Person To Whom He Can Give The Best That He Possesses.

There Is No French Town In Which The Wounds Inflicted On The Battle-field Are Not Bleeding.

The Swimmer Adrift On The Open Seas Measures His Strength, And Strives With All His Muscles To Keep Himself Afloat. But What Is He To Do When There Is No Land On The Horizon, And None Beyond It?