I wandered through the streets thinking of all the things I might have said and might have done had I been other than I was.

Sweet dreams though the guns are booming.

The room shall speak, it must catch me up and hold me, I want to feel that I belong here, I want to hearken and know when I go back to the front line that the war will sink down, be drowned utterly in the great home-coming tide, know that it will then be past for ever, and not gnaw us continually, that it will have none but an outward power over us...Nothing stirs; listless and wretched, like a condemned man, I sit there and the past withdraws itself. And at the same time I fear to importune it too much, because I do not know what might happen then. I am a soldier, I must cling to that.

No matter how improbable an assertion is, if it is made with enough assurance it has an affect.

Come let me kiss you. Life was never so precious as today— when it meant so little.

I wandered through the streets thinking of all the things I might have said and might have done had I been other than I was.

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.