No soldier outlives a thousand chances. But every soldier believes in Chance and trusts his luck.

We are forlorn like children, and experienced like old men, we are crude and sorrowful and superficial—I believe we are lost.

Someone said to me once that a cigarette at the right moment is better than all the ideals in the world.

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

There was only the broad square with the scattered dim moons of the street lamps and with the monumental stone arch which receded into the mist as though it would prop up the melancholy sky and protect beneath itself the faint lonely flame on the tomb of the Unknown Soldier, which looked like the last grave of mankind in the midst of night and loneliness.

We came to realise - first with astonishment, then bitterness, and finally with indifference - that intellect apparently wasn't the most important thing...not ideas, but the system; not freedom, but drill. We had joined up with enthusiasm and with good will; but they did everything to knock that out of us.

We are little flames poorly sheltered by frail walls against the storm of dissolution and madness, in which we flicker and sometimes almost go out…we creep in upon ourselves and with big eyes stare into the night…and thus we wait for morning.