I am young, I am twenty years old; yet I know nothing of life but despair, death, fear, and fatuous superficiality cast over an abyss of sorrow. I see how peoples are set against one another, and in silence, unknowingly, foolishly, obediently, innocently slay one another.

You take it from me, we are losing the war because we can salute too well.

Trenches, hospitals, the common grave--there are no other possibilities.

We were all at once terribly alone; and alone we must see it through.

We have our dreams because without them we could not bear the truth.

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

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