The coffin, it shall protect me, though Death himself lies in it

It was a melancholy secret that reality can arouse desires but never satisfy them.

It's all rot that they put in the war-news about the good humour of the troops, how they are arranging dances almost before they are out of the front-line. We don't act like that because we are in a good humour: we are in a good humour because otherwise we should go to pieces.

My rage outweighs my shame, as always happens when one is really ashamed and knows he ought to be.

We were eighteen and had begun to love life and the world; and we had to shoot it to pieces.

To me the front is a mysterious whirlpool. Though I am in still water far away from its centre, I feel the whirl of the vortex sucking me slowly, irresistibly, inescapably into itself.

Never do anything complicated when something simple will serve as well. It's one of the most important secrets of living.