We Were All At Once

No Matter How Improbable An Assertion Is, If It Is Made With Enough Assurance It Has An Affect.

And Even If These Scenes From Our Youth Were Given Back To Us We Would Hardly Know What To Do. The Tender, Secret Influence That Passed From Them Into Us Could Not Rise Again. We Might Be Amongst Them And Move In Them; We Might Remember And Love Them And Be Stirred By The Sight Of Them. But It Would Be Like Gazing At The Photograph Of A Dead Comrade; Those Are His Features, It Is His Face, And The Days We Spent Together Take On A Mournful Life In The Memory; But The Man Himself It Is Not.

A Hospital Alone Shows What War Is.

Yes, That's The Way They Think, These Hundred Thousand Kantoreks! Iron Youth! Youth! We Are None Of Us More Than Twenty Years Old. But Young? That Is Long Ago. We Are Old Folk.

How Senseless Is Everything That Can Ever Be Written, Done, Or Thought, When Such Things Are Possible. It Must Be All Lies And Of No Account When The Culture Of A Thousand Years Could Not Prevent This Stream Of Blood Being Poured Out, These Torture-chambers In Their Hundreds Of Thousands. A Hospital Alone Shows What War Is.