War Don't Ennoble Men, It Turns 'em

He Knew How To Handle Pain. You Had To Lie Down With Pain, Not Draw Back Away From It. You Let Yourself Sort Of Move Around The Outside Edge Of Pain Like With Cold Water Until You Finally Got Up Your Nerve To Take Yourself In Hand. Then You Took A Deep Breath And Dove In And Let Yourself Sink Down It Clear To The Bottom. And After You Had Been Down Inside Pain A While You Found That Like With Cold Water It Was Not Nearly As Cold As You Had Thought It Was When Your Muscles Were Cringing Themselves Away From The Outside Edge Of It As You Moved Around It Trying To Get Up Your Nerve. He Knew Pain.

The Main Trouble With Being An Honest Man Was That It Lost You All Your Illusions.

That Was One Of The Virtues Of Being A Pessimist: Nothing Was Ever As Bad As You Thought It Would Be.

The Quality Which Makes Man Want To Write And Be Read Is Essentially A Desire For Self-exposure And Masochism. Like One Of Those Guys Who Has A Compulsion To Take His Thing Out And Show It On The Street.

War Don't Ennoble Men, It Turns 'em Into Dogs. It Poisons The Soul.