We Commit Two Wrongs When We Fail

Many Men On The Point Of An Edifying Death Would Be Furious If They Were Suddenly Restored To Health.

Dawn's Faint Breath Breathes With Your Mouth At The Ends Of Empty Streets. Gray Light Your Eyes, Sweet Drops Of Dawn On Dark Hills. Your Steps And Breath Like The Wind Of Dawn Smother Houses. The City Shudders, Stones Exhale— You Are Life, An Awakening. Star Lost In The Light Of Dawn, Trill Of The Breeze, Warmth, Breath— The Night Is Done. You Are Light And Morning.

The Richness Of Life Lies In Memories We Have Forgotten.

Writing Is A Fine Thing, Because It Combines The Two Pleasures Of Talking To Yourself And Talking To A Crowd.

War Makes Men Barbarous Because, To Take Part In It, One Must Harden Oneself Against All Regret, All Appreciation Of Delicacy And Sensitive Values. One Must Live As If Those Values Did Not Exist, And When The War Is Over One Has Lost The Resilience To Return To Those Values.