An army is a nation within a nation, it is one of the vices of courage.

Of what use is the memory of facts, if not to serve as an example of good or of evil?

Of what use were the arts if they were only the reproduction and the imitation of life?

The existence of the soldier, next to capital punishment, is the most grievous vestige of barbarism which survives among men.

I have a private theory, Sir, that there are no heroes and no monsters in this world. Only children should be allowed to use these words

Hope is the greatest madness. What can we expect of a world that we enter with the assurance of seeing our fathers and mothers die? A world where, if two beings love each other and give their lives to each other, both can be sure that one will watch the other perish?

Honour is manly decency. The shame of being found wanting in it means everything to us. Is this, then, the indefinable, the sacred thing?